I made so many plans after what you said last night

I made so many plans after what you said last night

I'm feeling sentimental and squirmy and orange-haired and itchy and wide-awake and hugely out of the loop and thinking that the absolute worst part about being a teenage girl is looking in the mirror and feeling like you're fat or your eyebrows are too something or your hair is the wrong color or there's no way you'll ever look like famous-gorgeous-celebrity-person. Let's just all drown in self-loathing, shall we?

My not-as-good-as-the-first-that-got-deleted summer playlist can't drown out the sound of my dog whimpering in the hallway or all the thoughts jumbling around in my head, including the one telling me that "jumbling" isn't a word. I feel like everything I'm thinking could fill up the entire blank journal that's sitting in front of me right now, but I feel like I can't fill up that journal without feeling guilty for wasting so much usable space. I can't use the space because I want to save it for a time when it'll be better used. I'm such a huge contradiction and hypocrite and possibly a sufferer of multiple personality disorder.

Lather, rinse, repeat. I swear this sounds like a blog post I wrote last week. Am I wasting good internet space? Wasting space in this vast vortex of endlessness?