I'm just gonna warn you now, I'm naked.

I'm not actually naked so if that's what your looking for hit another website. Pervert.

Writing scares me so much more than usual when I can't hide behind my words. But I'm tired of trying to write and ending up with a headache. And to be completely honest I like being naked. Literally sure, but on a figurative level it's even more freeing. I'm done trying to be deep and mysterious. I'm laying my shit out on the table.

Ooooo SJ is going to get real guys. Better watch out.

But really. 

Can I start out by saying depression is one creepy mother F-er. Like Hey depression I know we hung out all the time last year but its over. You should really stop hanging around. You're really starting to screw any shot I have at making friends and I don't appreciate it.

I mean everyone tells you that moving out brings all sorts of guys into your life but I didn't expect this.

                            Any of this...

If I could rewrite my packing list it would go more like this;

•Costco size box of kit kats

•Chastity belt

•More kit kats

If my packing list confuses you then you may actually survive "young adulthood". If you understand, well then God help you.

I'm sure if you asked him he would. 

I'm sure if we talked more, him and I, then I'd be in a better places. But I've gotten kind of quiet. I don't do a whole lot of talking anymore because I don't feel like anyone's listening. Is anyone listening? 

I hope so. And I hope not.

I'm going to put some clothes on now. 

My life 2k13; part 1