all of these years i was sure i was (mostly) hetero and not a pedophile.
last night i was punched in the face and shanked in the lung by truth.
my boyfriend is not a 32 year old man, nope.
he is in fact a 13 year old girl.
the truth came out last night when i was dragged to a rhett miller show by him.
looking around the room, i met eyes with the many boyfriends that were in my same tortured state.
we were all armed with our friend beer to ease our pain.
the music is sappy sweet one moment, nauseously predictable the next, and finally poppy and forgetable just to bring it all together.
but looking at the boyfriend smiling and bouncing and squealing and singing along, although made me a little ill, gave me endless joy.
i feel dirty.

i don't know what i want to be when i grow up.
but i think it should include lots of money.
maybe a tractor.
some sushi.
a monkey.
lots of tutus.
and some puppies.
oh and cool whip icing.
yeah. that works.

tell my boyfriend he must grow a mustache.
he won't listen to me.

it is raining in l.a.
i bite my lip and pick at my adult acne.
my boyfriend slaps my hand when i do the latter.
i just found out my little sister is having sex.
she is 13.
i was 14.
she wins.
she has been doing 'it' since she was 12.
she wins even more.
by 'wins' i mean 'i hope she doesn't get herpes. or a baby.'
i used to have a diary on a diaryland.com
now i have a blog.
it sounds less retarded.
actually it doesn't---say BLOG.
yeah, sounds retarded.
anyway, no more diary. i have joined the new millennium.