I honestly don't know why I"m doing this. I"ve never been good at keeping up with things like this.
Blogging.
I never know what to say or why people would even want to read what I write. It's not like my life is more interesting than anyone else's or anything.
God, I sound so insecure. I know I'm an interesting person. But am I interesting enough for people to want to read about my life?
Right now I am staring at a pokeball as I type and all I see is a girl with gigantic headphones who really needs to get dressed in an hour or so. There's an old muffin wrapper on my desk, and on top of that is a phone I need to put back in the kitchen, sometime soon probably. A compact mirror shaped like a car's head, and next to that a deep purple color of nail polish with an antique horse statue that used to have a chain but it broke. Two kinds of eyedrops. A plastic peep and a clay nurse bunny. Two empty glass bottle of cream soda and one empty glass bottle of orange drink. One of those wooden art doll things with purple and blue hair drinking from the orange drink. Tinsel on my computerm along with a light up rubber duck and a plastic dragon my dad gave me. A whole lot of crap.
:)
Craptastic! Who drank that orange drink? Who drank the cream soda? Don't tell me that mannequin drank the orange drink. I know she runs around your room when you are at school, but she really doesn't have enough room in her little wooden belly for that huge beverage.
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