Annabella's Journal [entries|friends|calendar] Annabella [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[14 Jun 2005|11:51pm] [ mood | crushed ] So i heard this band from England called the arty monkeys, and they are real bad. dang to heck they are. 4 comments|post comment

[14 Jun 2005|10:50am] I am a sick, twisted motherfucker. And very soon everyone is going to know it. post comment

[05 Nov 2003|12:17am] Emoting time. A while back, Mark said that he was going off me. Didn't fancy me anymore etc. That every time i told him i loved him, it made me feel uncomfortable. That was then though. Now things are once more cool. Thing is however, back then when he was apparantley freaked out when i said i loved him, i remember him always saying he loved me too. So now whenever he tells me he loves me, theres a part of me that thinks "yeah do you really or are you just saying that? i dont want you to lie out of PITY or anything". When i have no reason to believe this is the case at all. But i just cant help feeling it. With every act of affection, i doubt its legitimacy. To the point of "hmmmmm ok maybe he thinks he's being truthful, but is subconsciously just trying to stop himself thinking other thoughts" I dont feel right for thinking this, especially when i love him so so much and want him to love me and tell me so. Except the tingly feeling when says it is ocassionaly just turning into doubt and self-pity. Dang. 1 comment|post comment

[03 Nov 2003|06:14pm] Hello strangers. Sorry I was gone like that. My boyfriend Mark and I went away to the woods <3 His aunt is really rich, and has a big log cabin. I swear to god its just like the ones you see in movies. Except the whole 'roaring fire' thing doesnt come with an electric switch. Damn. It takes hours works. Mark was suprisingly enthusiastic about doing it. Maybe its the whole 'being a man' thing. Boys. Who'd have em, eh? Oh I would. Sure, after 4 days the romanticness of cooking shitty pasta and tomato sauce completely dissapeared, and it was as annoying as having to eat shitty pasta and tomato sauce for 4 days. But my it was fun. post comment

[27 Oct 2003|10:02pm] New start, old tales. When I was 12, my brother left. Now I don't mean he ran away ran away. Or rather, I do, but its just that he told us he was leaving. He didnt tell us we wouldnt see him for another 6 years. I suppose it wasnt too bad. He told us (me and my mom and sister) that he had to go to 'think' and that he wouldnt be back for a while. And he did write letters every so often. But i suppose deep down we all thought he was just having a typical young man spiritual crisis, and wanted to be on his own for a bit, then would miss home comforts and return in 6 weeks claiming he was a new man. But, he didn't. What on earth's a mother to do when the first born takes off like that? She didn't take it too well. Why am I telling you this? I dont know, i just think sometimes that to see people clearly you need to see a bit of the patchwork of their life. And this is very much in the patchwork of mine. The most part of last year was spent dealing with his arrival back home and its consequences. It was quite sad. Not baby-drowned-in-a-river sad. But sad nevertheless. 2 comments|post comment

[27 Oct 2003|05:08pm] Oh the alcoholic afternoons when we sat in your room they meant more to me than any living thing on earth post comment

[27 Oct 2003|01:44pm] Hello world/me. I am Annabella. ~I want to take pictures of rainy windows and sell them for money, but instead I take sexual discrimination off my boss and type into computers. ~I want to live in a dumpy room in the middle of chinatown. Instead I live in a dumpy room next to a middle class white area. ~I want to stop stop stop and run away in a boy's truck through corn field America. ~I want to see Britain in the summer and Austria in the snow. +I used to write another journal, but got sick of the high-school popularity contest of it all. And no you can't ask what that journal was. Getting away is something not to be entered lightly into. post comment

[27 Oct 2003|01:30pm] [ mood | determined ] The beginning.        Phase 1. Starting Is an art, like everything else. I do it extremely well. post comment

[27 Oct 2003|01:26pm] testing testing 1-2-3-4 post comment

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