weepy deepy n shit

I have always said that when I look at the past and all that has gone on in my life that I feel no regrets. These past few days have kind of gotten me wonderin' if that is just an easy way to cop out of dealing with issues and and all this self-hatred I have for myself. It is all a weird cycle for me, addiction, because when I am not a full-blown addict (coke, sex, painkillers, benzos, throwing up, whatever) I am constantly hitting myself over the head for the times that I was. Then I create these crazy high expectations for myself, expectations to make up for "lost time", expectations that are absolutely impossible to reach and then I get so depressed about never reaching my goals that I swing in to some sort of addiction. I just need to admit to myself that I do regret some aspects of being an addict (past, present, and future), but really I shouldn't, because yeah I did some real fucking shitty things, and I hurt a lot of people, and I was basically a big ole' turd, but I learned so much, I know more about myself than most people, and I am sure, one day, knowing how to create the perfect line of powder on someone's stomach will come in handy. Just not in the drug way. Maybe in the sexy sex powder kinda way. I dunno. On that note, hurrr:

crabwalk

shitz so fuckd. skewls almost over. i got good grades. 2 a'z and 1 b, i think. fml at home. i wish my doc would put me back on ambien cause i cant sleep. it's summer now, so he is going to try to get me off benzos. fml with doctors. imma gettin really good a skateboarding. i have a crush on a boy, but it is impossible that he has a crush on me back. i have faux crushes on millions of girls, but i don't know them so thats really creepy. im a perv because i would totally fuk an 18 year old and the general public (bookcase, my lil' sister, and my mom) all say thats gross. im already pretty tan which is kewl. if i don't get this spa job i will enter a deep state of depression that will lead to me not leaving the bed, taking copious amounts of benzos (that i have stockpiled), reading kerouac nonstop, giving up on life, dropping out of college again, not practicing my shredding, and losing my fabulous tan. i hate being a cancer. i get too fucking over-anaytical about things. like this job. and my crush. who i am not fucking really stressing out about, except i want to fuck him somemore and maybe get some validation on my feelings. I wish Saltshaker would call me sometimes and talk me thru my astrological meltdowns, because she is a cancer and knows all about it. astrology is fucking stoopid, i don't know what i am talking about. the last person i saw that was my age had gone to a nickleback concert the night before. where am i going to skewl next semester? fml.