Never hungry when working with food.

Just kidding. I take it back.

Glitter is pretty, especially on boys.

Wanting spring back. Too fucking hot.

He loves me, loves me not.

It'll be worth it, in retrospect.

Jumping for sorrow, wallowing in joy.

Falling asleep, nausea by my side.

I will pull this all together.

I'm straight, but she's so cute.

Pay attention to me: I'm tragic.

Art school junior still can't draw.

I need a mental health day.

This post was edited for content.

(FUCK OFF YOU INCOMPETENT PATHETIC SHIT)

Black male, early teens, orange shirt.

I feel like I'm trapped here.

Glad I'm visiting home, for once.

Ashamed of the hatred I feel.

Bike ride, physical assault, bake cookies.

(life in Baltimore).

The day can turn so quickly.

anger burning, fear paralyzing, mission accomplished?

And people are murdered over bicycles.

What were you trying to prove?

Rage takes over boys so young.

Those little fuckers will be back.

Simple words, and you throw punches.

It's just like riding a bicycle.

Six words is not nearly enough.

He's just too much like me.

It's too pretty out for homework.

Bruises surface, too many days later.

Don't obsess, Cara. Cara, don't obsess.

Need a vacation from my vacation.

Oddly nostalgic for life before facebook.

This is why I love design.

I retroactively remember my dissociative tendencies.

Maybe he's just really, really sick.

Apparently guys don't mature with age.

No headphones. I'll have to focus myself.

I'll just do it all tomorrow.

I live for nights like these.

I was supposed to have plans...

Tweak, adjust, ink, oil, lead, perfection.

Everything is always better when flourescent.

My brain expanding, face contracting, multitasking.

Tweaking the kerning of drawn letters.

Beautiful designs that just won't print.

Ever working, catching ideas like butterflies.

If three inches is too much...

Seat warmers: better than sliced bread.

I found paper in my potato.

Solid connection is full of affection.

Your hands eclipse my fingertips.

Frantically changing outfits, one last time.

Still running, still running on empty.

The clock ticks on. I surrender.

Murphy's Law: Story of my life.

Bought a plant, feel healthier already.

Ate nothing but cookies all day.

We're not in third grade anymore.

There are penises in my homework!

Loud static does not art make.

These shoes were made for dancing.

Not interested in you, just bored.

Met a Jewish Doctor. Go figure.

Touch me: Prove that I'm real.

Faking it gets easier with practice.

Hold me close, I'm drifting away.

Clean room: Key to uncluttered life.

Starting the week ahead, for once.

You and I are Welcome Here.

Romantic Comedies, Whipped Cream, Ladies Night.

No Boys Allowed This Valentine's Day.

No, I am not your girlfriend.

Nostalgia, while generally interesting, frightens me.

Spontaneity breeds beauty, contentment, and peace.

Have more memoirs, will post later.

Blue sky, shimmering aura, at peace.

Happiness, Stability, Confidence, Assuredness, Optimism, Spring.

Ball's in his court. Goodbye ball.

(and good riddance!)

Why does he still affect me?

Need to start carrying small notebook.

Sleeping pills not working, still awake.

Common cold continues, cruelly crushing creativity.

Lots of lead on my hands.

Either way, I just *like* people.

Apparently, college is all about bureaucracy.

Why can't I just stay healthy?

I still play with my food.

Shouldn't go this long without showering.

Will extricate myself from academic catastrophe.

Organizing my room, organizing my life.

I've thoroughly fucked up this time.

Was this a one time thing?

I don't much like hard liquor.

Likes sex, but just in theory.

All pain, no gain; should abstain.

The sky is orange tonight. Apocalypse?

Slightly unstable, somewhat medicated. Significantly happier.

I guess I should explain myself.

I am going to try to post daily six word memoirs. Between this blog, my twitter account, and my facebook page, everyone is going to know way too much about me.