why is it so hard to act and destroy one's self and conform and act normal, or adopt the persona of a frilly frufru party girl who'd die without makeup and big boots and parties, and getting drunk at a club or party and craming your hand down a stranger's pants

then you go do some drugs and hump a couch. and starve yourself to be a sexywexy 70 pounds (OH god I miss being a 0 and 70 pounds. how the hell did I climb up to 100, and now 97 due to walking.  I feel so blubber butt for being a 4.  good thing there are pretty girls dieing to be a -0

and hair and nails.

woah man. why do I buy figurines and brushes and video games and not $300 on a makeover, and need mascara and fancy nails to take a dump.

then why does the idea of being one of those make my skin crawl with such revolt?

i'd say I gotta be me if I had one, but others don't have themself either.

conform kids. it's good to be a slave.

if you don't make use of it, you don't need it.


and I still need to make fake friends to use as stepping stones to any fame I want. who need agents when you can just be pals with famous writers.  I'd get a free easy ride.  Maybe if I were 11, I'm sure if you ever see a film by a 7 year old, it was because they were the director's child.