at the matinee i felt so fucking much. and now there is nothing. no emotion.  i guess that's what happens when it is inevitable.  I hate that I'm such a weepy drama queen, but when it really matters everything is repressed. 

Well this was a place of secrets, of hiding, of sweeping under rugs and locking in the closet... And that's not happening anymore. So I'm trying somewhere new, somewhere honest, somewhere where I'm not living two lives. If you want me, you know how to reach me.

I wonder how many people I'd have to ask for a quarter before I saved enough for Wicked & plane tickets.
Yeah.
Maybe I'd better try for a poster instead.
So, anyone want to loan me a quarter?
*echoing silence*
Yeah, that's what I thought
Where is my Princeton when I need him? Because contrary to popular belief, getting my ass to Wicked--Portland, NYC, London, I'm not being picky--is a much nobler cause than some silly school for monsters.

I'm doing the friend's only thing, which breaks my heart a little... because I'd like to think that someone out there is reading all this... But at the same time I can't write without censoring, fearing that someone reading this will recognize the tell-tale signs... And after all I've said there's no one else it could be, if you knew what you were looking for. I hate how the banners look so imposing though, "Friends Only".... well actually this one should says "Non-friends only" because I just want to maintain anonymity. Such is life. And as soon as photoshop starts working, I'm definately making a better banner