Thoughts of stuff

I'm feeling rather pathetic.

Not even for the reasons I usually do. I'm a young, beautiful, working girl. I should be extactic to be alive.

I am.

"So what's wrong with you then," you ask? Well, it's plain and simple. I, like so many other Americans, am not satisfied being 'average.' I want to reach for the stars. I mean, seriously, how many other countries would have the oppertuinty for me to decide to do something crazy, and then do it. I wouldn't be allowed to even have the oppertnunity to whine and moan like this on the internet in a country such as China, where free-speech is fairy tale that mommies and daddies tell to good little Chineese babies at bedtime.

I know I have tons of faults. Most of them being that I don't really think I have as many faults as I really do. (that's something to think about, isn't it?) I just think that whatever's wrong with me will eventually even itself out as I get older... Like it always does.

The fact of the matter is that I complain too much. My one and only diaryland buddy dropped me a note and said that she's having a similar problem with her friend that I having with Gabi. It's good to know that I'm not the only retard on earth. Not that I'm calling her a retard at all, but we all do retarded stuff every now and then, ya know?

Well, whatever. I have to be working now.