You Can't Get Out Of This

I'm smoking again.

I secretly hope my friend's non-profit organization for kids in Africa fails because I can't do something brilliant like she can. I know that my feeling that is why I can't do something brilliant.

Every time I think I can like my sister, she does something, and I realize why we can't ever really be friends.

I have to clean out my car because I don't have room for my laptop in the mornings anymore.

I'm with my boyfriend because I can't be alone and because I love him, though I don't know if it's the right kind of love.

I think it's hilarious that my aunt honestly thinks Obama is the anti-Christ.

I don't follow up with friends because I don't want to be let down, and I don't feel guilty that I let them down.

I tried having an eating disorder a few years ago, but I love food too much, and failed after 7 hours.

When I pull my hair into a ponytail, the shorter hair in front frizzes out, and it looks like I licked an electrical socket.

When I'm honest, I feel that I can both breathe and live with myself.