Back when I was 24. I can’t decide if I feel different or not.

GPOYW. The it’s-been-a-while edition. If you see this, or follow me, or whatever, you should say hi back. I’m Cri, how’s it going?

GPOYTh.

Too much shit on my plate right now. I have things due left and right, and dealing with family related issues. I don’t have time for other people’s hang-ups and issues until I’m done wading through mine. Please, please, please. Understand that sometimes words are just words, kindness is just kindness, and that not everything has subtext. I don’t have subtext. I have text. I am me. I’m not who you think I am. I’m as fucked up as the next unique special snowflake fluttering around this snowglobe we call a planet. Uniquely similar. I want simplicity. I need time to breathe and space to evaluate. Fuck fuck fuck.

The woman who cut my hair thought I was 17 years old. I sure showed her wrong by wearing red lipstick. Hah! Take that, Julie.

You guys asked for it. These are my new hairs. I think I like each and every single one. We’ll see if I actually straighten it on a regular basis. I’m thinking: probably not.

P.S. I obviously get my ideas for picture poses from here.

Gratuitous picture of yourself when-you’re-tired-and-should-be-writing-a-5-page-poetry-paper Wednesday!

GPOYWTh

GPOYW, the no sleep, I-look-like-a-doll edition.

I’ve been waking up at 4 A.M. each day this week. Next week clasess start and I’m reminded how ill-prepared I’ve always been and why that might be the reason I’m eternally standing still. I came home and put on extra eyeliner and too much blush after deciding I want to look like a doll. When I wash it all away I will feel ordinary and invisible. I need this extra layer to be seen at all and the reality of that is stifling.