xxemorawr

Jan.1st 2005 Hm…Dear Diary, or Hey You? I don't exactly know how to address these types of things. It seems a little silly to me to start writing 'Dear Diary' or 'Dear Journal'. Something an 8 year old would say. Well, you might as well be wondering why I am all of a sudden writing in this. This, being you. Wait, No. You're an inanimate object. You're not a you. Well, I officially dub thee Bob, to clear things up. I feel a lot better about this. Baaaack to what I was saying, yes. The reason I have begun to write my thought in this is because of my New Year's Resolutions. I don't expect this to last long. I'll probably come across this nex

{{ABOUT}} Name: Roxanne Georgica {Olsen} Age:17 Personality: Funny, loud, outgoing, likes to drink, party and be crazy. I woke up to the sound of thunder and lightning one night. I sat straight up in my bed, peering around in the darkness as sweat beaded on m forehead. I have never been a sound sleeper. It used to be regular crazy nightmares every night, but now they're getting worse. They used to focus on gory zombies, people I had never seen before in my entire life. But now the dead people in my dreams that reached for my throat with their bony and rotting fingers were people I know. I quickly wiped my brow of the sweat that had colle

The soft sound of a moan, mixed with a whine, came floating through the air, drifting out through the pink Cupid's bow lips of a young woman swaddled in a nest of blankets. The crest of her white-blonde hair, in a bob of some sort with the top of the crown all spiky, peeked out from under the largest comforter. Sniffing, a small, pale hand pulled the object obstructing her vision away. Eyes of the palest blue narrowed in the sunlight pouring in via the window. "Fuck," she muttered sleepily. The other hand shot up and attempted to run the sleep out of the brilliantly colored orbs. All that came away, however, was some of yesterday's makeup, w