Side Notes.

I guess I haven't written anything because I haven't been able to consummate my obligation to my emotional duties as an overwhelmed and completely clueless twenty-three-year-old.
A twenty-three-year-old shouldn't have to take on such a ridiculous task.

I stopped taking birth control and for the first time in years I feel right.
The balance that I've maintained just within my every day lifestyle has been soothing to my fears of mental instability. I feel normal again; I feel like I'm functioning properly. I feel a thousand pounds lighter and healthier and things with Andrew seem to be working and I'm so unbelievably satisfied with the state of my life right now that I'm completely convinced that all men should forgo the desire to be condemnless and encourage their lovers to be free of hormonal insanity, so women can begin to loose the label of pyschotic love fiends.

Seriously, it was the birth control.

I haven't talked to Neil in awhile and I feel good about it.
He's concerned that my summary of his existence on my blog has made him sound like a bit of a git. I suppose it has, but it's been an honest account and if it has, then it has. I like Neil but it's plainly obvious that the only reason he wants me around is for a fuck. If he feels guilty for that, it's his own moral checklist cashing in because he's done me no wrong.
I don't think I'll meet him now only because there's no point. I can't screw him, or rather, I won't screw him and he's run out of things to say.

He was a nice fellow though. Too bad we didn't meet at a different time when our lifestyles were more intune to eachother's needs.

My body is tired.
I'm excited for my birthday, but I'm more excited for my paycheck.
I'm trying to decide if I can pull off blonde.

This is good.