Well, today I trekked around the San Diego Zoo. Very nice. Lovely animals, though they need to provide some with enrichment, like the sun bear. The poor thing was pacing restlessly in its awful boredom. Take the hint. It's a pretty nice place. I'm exhausted now. I took a lot of pictures. I'll remember the animals now. Driving back, I nearly fell asleep in the back seat, and my mother had the radio on. Interesting songs played. I had a good day. But I think that my life tends to have peaks like this. Tomorrow will probably be an emotional disaster. Haha, I'm pathetic. Not like I want it to be. I don't mean to be a gloomy Cassandra or anything. Why am I even posting this here? I'm so fatigued, I'll regret this. Ahh, I'm making so many mistakes that I barely catch. I better stick to IMing. But things are going to be worse for some reason. I don't even want to miserable. What am I ranting on about? Well, no one reads this awful journal. It's sort of trash. I miss being naive like a little kid, though that just made my life worse. And sometimes I really just want to die. That's a bit weighty for a random Internet diary (that one ever reads) and I bet I sound like some attention-seeking whiny poser. I don't really tell people things like that on the Internet. Me being tired tends to be the equivalent of me being drunk (not that I ever have) and my mind can't work out whether that's the usual due to effects of alcohol. And I mean specifically that I'm stupid about stuff when tired and tend to share random private thoughts. So it's similar. But not like other effects, really. I am going to regret this entry and probably edit it furiously. Or delete it. I dunno what the verdict is. It's best to decide in the morning.

My username here is Wilted. You know this. So I'll add my two cents to this place. It can't hurt, right? This is the beginning, I suppose. The very start of the two cent-additions. And don't listen to me. I know nothing and I'm naive. Yes, well my email is private for a reason. My little veil of privacy is nice, not for you, but perhaps for me. This journal is public. There goes the privacy now. This is mostly pathetic drivel in here, of no value and very little interest. Might even be perplexing. But my journal is public for the world to view. And no one will ever read it. Hello, world. Goodbye. -Wilted.