Improv Resource Center - Forums
I'm not sure what I'm doing. I'm sitting on a school computer typing this, and I don't know where I want it to go. The keys are sticking and girls are talking around me. I wish they would shove it. I just paused to try and eat an egg; I've been distracted by the gossiping girls. Their problems are probably identical to the ones I will be talking about, but not being about me, they annoy me. Typical.
Who am I?
I am female. My name is Elizabeth. I like to talk about myself and my insignificant problems and pedestrian life.
Why am I here?
Whim. See above.
How did I get here?
My boyfriend has a journal here. He never updates it anymore. He doesn't know I'm starting one. It feels like I'm keeping up w/ the Jones', or imitating everything he does, so out of embarassement we'll see how long I don't tell him.
What do I expect to accomplish?
Satisfaction at seeing my delusions plastered somewhere. Personally I'm hoping I'll get comments, I had a journal on diaryland but it degenerated into an emotional trash heap which I still update and reread as a log of my emotional extremes, but which I now sincerely hope no one will ever read.
Damn, the keys are sticking again.
The only substantial prompt I've mentioned so far is my boyfriend. I will talk about him now because I enjoy talking about him, and he is never far from my thoughts, a fact I find disconcerting.
His name is Michael. His kissing technique needs work. He also needs help in the romance department, though he is a sensitive and emotional person. He's skinny and his dick is a satisfactory size. I think he's gorgeous. I fantasize about living with him, marrying him, and being with him the rest of my life.
I want to be a wife. I want to be a mother.
He's a drifter. Good at everything, unsure about anything. I've always pictured myself with a breadwinner. He's brilliant at math and great w/ computers, but has the mentality of an artist.
He's a musician. AND a writer.
I love him. Dating him is frustrating day-to-day. I don't know if it's life, or us. So I fatalistically wonder how we'll break up.
Who am I?
I am female. My name is Elizabeth. I like to talk about myself and my insignificant problems and pedestrian life.
Why am I here?
Whim. See above.
How did I get here?
My boyfriend has a journal here. He never updates it anymore. He doesn't know I'm starting one. It feels like I'm keeping up w/ the Jones', or imitating everything he does, so out of embarassement we'll see how long I don't tell him.
What do I expect to accomplish?
Satisfaction at seeing my delusions plastered somewhere. Personally I'm hoping I'll get comments, I had a journal on diaryland but it degenerated into an emotional trash heap which I still update and reread as a log of my emotional extremes, but which I now sincerely hope no one will ever read.
Damn, the keys are sticking again.
The only substantial prompt I've mentioned so far is my boyfriend. I will talk about him now because I enjoy talking about him, and he is never far from my thoughts, a fact I find disconcerting.
His name is Michael. His kissing technique needs work. He also needs help in the romance department, though he is a sensitive and emotional person. He's skinny and his dick is a satisfactory size. I think he's gorgeous. I fantasize about living with him, marrying him, and being with him the rest of my life.
I want to be a wife. I want to be a mother.
He's a drifter. Good at everything, unsure about anything. I've always pictured myself with a breadwinner. He's brilliant at math and great w/ computers, but has the mentality of an artist.
He's a musician. AND a writer.
I love him. Dating him is frustrating day-to-day. I don't know if it's life, or us. So I fatalistically wonder how we'll break up.