dear steak n shake boy

i think you are very very cute. i am aware that ours is a relationship that is short lived and, naysayers might nayingly say, superficial and based on absolutely nothing at all. however! i prefer to think of it as unconventional and quirky.

i am a bit enamored of the way you paused when i smiled at you. i also very much like that your shift ended and i got to see you in jeans and a tank. it was an unexpected step forward in our relationship, you see. i especially like the tattoo you have that curves from the crook of your elbow down towards your wrist. but mostly i wanna lick it. WAIT! this was supposed to be a respectful letter. i got ahead of myself, love. too much staring at your forearms; it must have been four whole split seconds. wait, does that expression mean two seconds? but i digress.

when you came back in with your friend and sat down to actually eat, we were on our way out. please tell me i didn't imagine you sneaking glances at me. to date, i can't be sure, as i was too busy sneaking glances at you and then pointedly looking away. in any case, darling, unexpected circumstances have driven us apart and will continue to do so. by circumstances i mean we finished dinner and had to go home.

as i'm trying to do one thing a day that scares me, maybe next time i will tell you how cute i think you are. i may also run away extremely fast afterwards, but these are the sorts of character flaws you will have to eventually accept if we are ever to work out, love.

in conclusion, i hope you do not have a girlfriend. i mean another girlfriend. yes. because that would be so disheartening, i fear i would never enjoy another orange freeze milkshake in much the same way again.
this could work, darling. i will see you as soon as possible. or, when i get another frisco melt craving, if we're being specific.

yours truly,
j

lkjsdhfaklsdj;alskdhfa

within five minutes of getting to that party, i singled out the one boy who was into dat obscure hipster music shit and was deep in conversation by minute six.

lpei: god dammit janet how did you even
j: lolololol

and he was so freaking cute, dammit, looked like a younger, smaller version of cillian murphy. and had a really loud laugh and band tees and these adorable stories he was telling me, but

too bad he has a girlfriend.

fuck. my. life.

this is twelve point font but in my head, what's really been the case since then is
alskdjfhaenvjkajaelpqbdkfnakls;woieufdkjal;akalsdj

fuck it, i'm young

aaaaaand we could title this "the one where J doesn't learn her lesson".

but, well. people like M go to parties, right? and those cool kids over there who will remain nameless, cuz. there's a line. so maybe i'll meet some equally cool people tonight too. because if i were anybody else at a party meeting M, well, i'd be someone meeting M. and maybe tonight i'll meet Sean or Thomas or Cole or something, and they'll be to the [insert persons here] what M was to me, which is to say, really special like. and whatever else. the point is you gotta at least place yourself somewhere, right?

M's unique, but then, so's everyone. chad's indescribably awesome, and nothing alike. which means his place is ultimately replaceable (he is not, i know).

ok, yeah, that's what happens when i try to rush post.

TL;DR no shots this time, i promise. and no drunken makeouts. i plomise.



aaand that's my ride.

shut up shut up shut up

oh god friends know too many other friends someone needs to gag me when i'm drunk so i don't say the world's stupidest shit. WHY THE HELL DOES EVERYONE PLAY SMASH BROS. god dammit.

also, when were we on the fl-- ohhhhhhh.

daily conversations

 Daniel:  i feel like when ie xplain things i get waaaaaay into them

and then they become bigger than they really are

inside my head

 me:  so you've turned into a girl?

 Daniel:  haha

yep

 me:  well it's moderately serious

but it's also not worse than things they usually do

from a while back

so....it could ALL be little things

or ALL be seriously yucky thing

but they are all..... all.

 Daniel:  janet did u just wake up

are your hair still in a mop ony our head

i'm in a constant state of 'just woke up'

enough bullshit.

ok fuck that stupid design and fuck meaningful tattoos and fuck le petit prince or at least put that on the backburner for now, i want swirls of ink on skin, dark and bold and crawling over my hipbones and ribcage, carefully imposing on smooth swells and then unrelentingly dipping into bony valleys, i want straight lines and curved lines and nothing delicate that could be drawn with a pencil but a thick, angle tip permanent marker.
there are places for delicacy and discretion, then times of having guts, god, nobody i know has guts anymore, explicit, simple, direct like staring unflinchingly into the eyes of, everyone, really.
i want tendrils of thick ink, and ink, and ink, and skin.