Why Christine, Molly, and gummy worms are awesome.

Hey, guess what? These gummy worms may be the most delicious gummy worms I've ever eaten. I don't really know why. They just taste really good. (In a cheesy television show, or a just-as-cheesy horror movie, this would be the point at which I realize I am eating real worms, or tapeworms, or something. And I had to check, just now, to make sure that the worm I pulled out of the bag was clear and half-orange-half-green and fruit flavored. Thanks a lot, me.)

Had an intense conversation with Christine tonight about how I'm too much of a coward to do anything about The Guy. She does not appreciate it. Neither do I, but I seem to have convinced myself that I really can't do anything about it.

And, listen, Christine can fucking write. Here's a bit of a poem in a series she's working on that address the hazards of girlhood:

I want to throw my fists in the faces
of people who talk about me
and I want to see their bodies
as bloody pulp
spewed like my vomit across the cement.
Instead I cross my legs at the ankle
pull my skirt up a little
and pretend like I'm praying
or forgiving
and look at boys like they are
holy
and hope they notice my 34DDs and eyeliner.

I love that first part, about beating people up. It's something I've thought often. I can't, of course; violence may present itself in my soul, but I'd feel too bad about actually doing anything.

I'm really glad I have her. She's pretty much the first girl-friend I could ever actually talk to about, I don't know, feelings and shit. She has been trying for the past hour or something to convince me to tell him I like him or jump off a building or whatever. Well no. I eliminated the bit about the metaphors. Anyways. She's really awesome, I just can't listen to her advice because I'm a nervous nerve-wracked freak.

I don't even want to think about it anymore, which, of course, means that it will be on my mind even more.

Ahhhhhhh.

...

I love Molly. She's the greatest cat in the world. (You are all probably sick of me saying that, or will be in a matter of days.) She stays by me whenever she can. She is sleeping next to me on the couch as I type this. Shouldn't her love be all I need?

...

Dear lord I've been checking every gummy worm before I eat it. There's overactive imagination for you.

Anyways it's time for bed. My little New Jersey cousins came up for Thanksgiving, and they will probably be waking me up at seven, or something. My brother is snoring. Heh.

Good night.

Still overthinking every fucking thing in life ahhhh,
Olivia