• This is a vow that I will not become a sorry human being who consistently updates her journal multiple times a day. But I’m allowing myself the luxury today because I think I’ll be able to focus better after I do. I almost feel as though a veil has been lifted from my eyes, or more accurately a Bandaid from a wound. I am better, I can breath again, but you know the sticky gross dirt encrusted gunk in an outline of the Bandaid when you take it off? I still have some stuff to deal with I guess. I almost cried when, for whatever reason girls do the things they do, I found Billy’s shitty old mobile home on Google Earth. This is stupid and degrading for a multitude of reasons, number one being that I only knew him for a week. Number two is that it was just sex. Number three is that it’s his fucking mobile home on Google Earth. Why should that make me cry? I guess because my virginity is somewhere inside its pixilated plywood and metal sheeting. No, I heard somewhere images on Google Earth have to be some odd years old for the sake of national security. So not yet. Just a whisper, a premonition, the opposite of a ghost.

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