This blog should be retitled to "Her Waaaaaa Waaaaaa and Complain About Exes." Yeah, not that catchy and also not Dylan lyrics (yet). So. I'll stick with "her fog and pearls." For now.
So. I don't waaaaaanna complain! I really don't! I don't wannnnnna be that girl! That girl that is always like, "Hey, guys (and girls and animals and creatures and gods and goddesses). It's me here. Meg. You know what that means. I'm going to say some really depressing things about a) body image, b) boys, and c) overall failure to succeed in life. Hey."
Don't wanna do it.
But I'm gonna.
Just for a sec.
Come on.
You don't have to read this.
You can go back to Facebook, I won't be offended.
Sometimes I fall into this head space that is messy, but blank, fuzzy, but cold. There is an anxiety and apprehension that buzzes below the surface. Skittish, antsy, irritable.
Oh lord, I just figured out what's wrong. Caffeine + the mall (earlier today!!! shit balls!!!) + lack of sleep. Duuuuuh.
Well, ride this one out, Meg.
It's okay if you don't "capture" every moment of nature today. Who/what wants to be captured anyway? Instead, just be. Yep. It's as simple, idealistic, and hippie-certified as that.
Neat, huh?
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