This is my diary, so I'll be putting whatever I feel and think in here. Sometimes I'll be bumming you out to the point where you're taking my name off of your favorites list, and other times I may be my faux charming self. I'll be putting in stupid things, and I'll write what make me think. I don't want to worry that someone will think I'm a loser, or that I'm an absolute hoot to read: I am a loser and a hoot, so laugh at me all you want! I hate worrying, yet I worry alot. I need some confidence, and since I don't have any, I'll pretend I do from time to time. I hate myself, but I'll deal with that on a daily basis. If I were a different race, gender, orientation, class, height, weight, ethnicity or shoe size, I'd still hate myself yet strive to be a better person.

I'll live a long life until some idiot takes it from me, or I miscalculate a jay-walking move and get squashed by a handi-bus. I have this on-line diary to express myself differently than my paper ones that I've collected since I was 13. Most of them, I don't even read anymore, but this one stares me in the face when I'm online. Without a diary, my inner voice will overtake me and consume me. If you're familiar with tarot cards, the Devil symbolises to me a slave to what takes control over me. My emotions I keep in shackles until that unfavorable time of the month, then it thrashes around in my belly, and I can feel it in there. I'll wrestle with it someday. It's a sexless creature, like my teddybears, only not as cute and cuddly; they're what keeps the monsters away from my inner-child.

I'll be lashing out from time to time, boring you with reflections of my past, attempting lame anecdotes for my own amusement, logging my daily events, all to leave something behind to show I had a life.