We Who Will Live in Infamy

You know I can't take that.
Or maybe you don't.
I know you were all kidding.
Do you know that it still killed me?
Why were  you laughing too? You should have understood.
Why did any of you laugh?
I didn't think it was funny. Don't you fucking dare call me that.
Even as an ironic joke.
I don't want to hear it from you too.
I already know. And its not a joke to me.
Its kind of what I live by.
Yes, I played along with you guys and your fatass jokes.
But I forced that fucking smile. 
No, I'm not pregnant. Auntie just hasn't visited for a while. I love that.
I love my skinny jeans and how much they hurt.
I love my mint gum.
I love that I have some control now.
I love that this isn't the sappy poetry I meant to write, its just a stupid confession.
One that everyone already knows.
One that everyone had better ignore.

So fuck all of you who think im being bad, I'm not going to change.
Especially not after any fatass jokes.

Oh yeah here's some photography, it was later yummy in my fatass tummy.

None of these are interesting I'm sorry but I still felt the need to upload them.

This is my dress for homecoming.
Its a vintage 1950's dress that is supposedly super-dee-duper schmancy and expensive... that I bought at a garage sale for $15.00 years ago.
It fit me better last year when I wore it in a fashion show, (as you can probably see im holding it tighter with my hand behind my back) but I found a dark blue sash to tie around my waist.
Its fucking huge but problem solved!
I think I'm going to stand out a bit considering its only said to be semi-formal. Do I give a shit?
No, no I do not.
It matches my hair so I will wear it.

Just a random post. I'm sorry I've been gone for ages.
GIVE ME OPINIONS.

I know its stupid for me to dwell on every little fucked up thing in my life.
But I just can't help it sometimes.

When things all go wrong like this its not like I have much say in the matter.
I should be trying to think of other things.
I should be trying to have fun with my life.
I should be trying to talk to people about it.
I know I should, and you know I should.
I should be doing countless things I'm not.
I just can't.

So disregard that fleeting distraught look.
So ignore the fake smile.
So pretend you didn't hear that slight pained intake of breath.
So deal with the results of me not being strong enough.

Took some sort of random pictures today, and i thought I'd share them with you.
The cute little girl is my sister, I'm the one with the insane fuchsia/blue hair... and the gun, and my uncle is the man with the very fashionable dog.
Tomorrow will be a busy day.
I'm going to finish my hair dying process, do my crapload of homework, and try to do more work on redecorating my room. It shall look amazing.
Today was fun I guess. I bought a whole Shop Rite bag-and-a-half stuffed with quirky garage sale clothes for five dollars. I'm so freaking exited to wear all of it...
And got a six foot tall huge gorgeous photo canvas that is now in my room (also for five dollars), along with a bunch of awesome floral decals for the walls.
Then I went to my aunt and uncles house for the last time and helped out and ate dinner.
Tah dah. You were just informed of an incredibly normal day in my life.

I don't exactly know why, but I really like the fourth picture here.
I suppose it just explains me well.