DUDE.

If you type 'make out w/Jimmy Fallon' into Google, this diary is the only result. I'm either proud or ashamed. You may have to get back to me on that one.

(Yeah, I like to play w/Google and see which word combinations bring up my diary. You know you do it, too.)

Anyhoo, my birthday is now four days away. Or three, if you don't count today. And I am. So, four.

I'm depressing myself by thinking about it constantly; how all these things were supposed to have happened by now and I'm nowhere near doing all the things I want to do before I croak. People keep telling me that I'm young and I have my whole life ahead of me. 'You have all the time in the world.' TIME...fuck time. Time makes me desperate. Time makes me corner boys in the bathroom and drunkenly confess crushes. Time makes me doubt. So, yeah, fuck time.

Dejavu, man. I need to figure out some better topics for my entries.

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