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don't hate me for being a pearl jam fan. i'm listening to "no code" while writing my essay. it's a great album. i swear. why are you looking at me like that? shutup!

i'm *sighing* diary. sighing madly. because i want you unlocked, fuck. i want to get back to the state where i was before. FREEDOM. there isn't much of that feeling now. socks said she didn't want me to tell her things just because i thought i HAD to. i know what she means, but she really can't win then. because then won't i just overcompensate and NOT tell her ANYTHING, just so she thinks that i'm not doing it "because she said so?" i can't win. she can't win.

i'm being cryptic. i should leave the cryptic stuff for my other diary. it's unreadably cryptic. i like that about it. don't get curious. don't want it. let me live there for a little while, work up my stink.

this place has been aired out. it doesn't smell like me anymore, not like a warm hooded sweatshirt that i would wear day in, day out.

when i lived in poland, i went to quite a lot of concerts. really weird random acts would pass through poland. there were many that i missed. CCR played this new year's eve apparently. very odd.

i saw u2 (during their "pop" tour, amazing concert - prompted me to abandon my lesbianism again to declare bono my new sex god), tina turner (remind me to tell you my tina turner story), michael jackson (this is when he wanted to build an amusement park in warsaw, right across the road from my school), bruce springsteen (solo acoustic tour - went with my father, our little bonding moment), bb king, pearl jam...i think that's it. why am i bringing this up? i don't know. i don't know where my fucking head is these days.

i don't know what to write about anymore. i'm losing it. losing the momentum. people came along and fucked it all up, fucked with my anonymity, fucked with my canvas. i'd like the damage to be repaired, PLEASE.