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The Girl
My name is Morgan and I'm going to be 18 this year. I live in Portage, PA, a dismal drug town. I'm a vegetarian, animal lover, and an athlete. I play volleyball and run distance in track. Plan on attending community college for my general studies and attending Mount Aloysius to study Criminal Justice/Forensic Accounting and hopefully go into the FBI or CIA.
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Disclaimer
My diary, my space, my rights. Don't like what you see? Feel free to hit that little X up there. Thanks.
"How about you stick it up your ass. See if it fits..."
...written on 2004-04-21, @ 3:03 p.m.
Seventeen days have past since I'm touched this keyboard to write about nothing. Seventeen days filled with bullshit and depression. Not my depression though...just the entire half of my mother's family. Everyone's on fucking prozac and paxil.(something's definitely wrong with these women...) I can't help that I was depressed either but I had my reasons. I'm fine now, in fact I'm not hypocrite happy. I'm content where I am.
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All I ever hear anymore are all my friends talking about hanging out with each other in groups and their stories of what they were doing that night and how much fun it was...I wish I were invited to things like that. I have to listen to them all the time telling me about movies, games and who hurt themself and how funny it was.
I feel isolated, secluded...hurt sitting there waiting for the phone to ring for me instead of my idiot brother. I never get a call from any one saying: "Hey! Wanna come down and hang out with us/me?" It's more like: "But there isn't enough room in the car" or "We're all going this person's house to hang out...it's going to be fun!" and they don't ask me to go.
And as they continue to chatter on and on I always block them out and think of my lonely room that hasn't been treaded by many of my friends. I shall be once again sitting on my bed, petting my cat and thinking of nothing because well, there isn't much of anything else to do other than cleaning and I can't stand that...
I enjoy my time alone but sometimes its nice to know I have friends who care...god I'm such a fucking whiner...
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I still don't understand why I continue to come here and write because well, I'm not a very good writer at all. All ideas stay in the rotted (and filled with holes) brain of mine and they can't go to the paper like I wanted them to. I use to love writing stories and now I can't seem to do it. I think my mental block is Alli. She writes better than anyone I know...well, Nikki and she write amazingly. I have two friends who are great writers and I'm just...dull. Ah...oh well. I'll get over it.
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Fuck this all...I'm leaving.
Nikki:"Everyone steals my glory..."