I ran into him right before a photoshoot. He was so cold it startled me.

My first day at work went great. I critiqued the writers and the features section without knowing that the owner of the company (who is coincidentally also a writer) was present. But I think it worked out in the end, constructive criticism turned out to be something she welcomed and she assigned me to the features section.

A cute boy who works at the warehouse chatted with me on my lunch break and invited me out to Downtown Huntington for my birthday. Which, I keep forgetting is coming up.

On the drive back home I started crying. When I parked in the garage I put my head against the steering wheel and wondered when this feeling would end. I hate still being in love with you.

In order to do great things you must believe that what you are doing is significant, has the capacity for change, and have your whole heart in it. There are no mistakes to great achievements, you either believe in yourself and your purpose, or you don't.

There's this raw raw feeling eating my insides.

Yesterday I went to Pasadena with my friend and her boy. We went to a lounge drenched in neon blue light. My friend and I pretended to be porn actresses, her boy being our director naturally. We danced and danced, he was the luckiest guy there haha. My friend hit on all the pretty girls while her boy and I giggled over our drinks as we watched. I flirted with the bartender and pretended to be French, oddly enough he spoke it, so that was a bit of a challenge. I wrote, "Try Harder" on a napkin I gave to him. When we got back to her boy's place they tried seducing me into a threesome, but I was much too drunk for that and chose the couch.

What an odd Wednesday night. Something much needed.

I heard this on the radio and it kinda ripped my heart in two, maybe cuz its partially true.

Funny date. Took me out to a wonderful hole in the wall full of pouty lips and tattoos. Talked a lot, discussed Dickens and Science Fiction. Then, when I leaned in to hug him goodbye my teeth clashed into his cheek. Awkward laughs and ungraceful departure out of car. Sigh, I am possibly the most clumsiest girl ever. Ha

I have a friend who constantly questions love, she wrote, "but if we were meant to be together, shouldn’t i fall for him hard no matter what the circumstances are, like romeo and juliet? isn’t that what love does to people, according to people - making irrational decisions? or on the contrary, do i just like him because there’s this big obstacle that is stimulating my competitive side to like him? or am i too old and wise to do that? or simply i don’t like him that much?"

It made me think. My conclusion: Love just happens. There is no reason or rationale behind it, it simply, is.

For the past few days I've had a swollen throat. A result of the sickly smog of L.A. My voice has been croaky, my words crooning over the air and reverberating back to my vocal chords, clumsily stroking their strings. I wore a black strapless cotton dress today, with a big brown leather belt and black leather gladiator sandals that snaked up my legs. I wore a straw hat with a thin black bow wrapped around it and danced with a red umbrella in my hand. And I sang to myself in the shade to no one in particular. I must have looked crazy, with my croaky voice and red umbrella in the hot hot heat of summer. But I don't mind.

I go back tomorrow but I don't want to. I've been busying myself with old friends and dark dive bars that play French music to accompany gruesome Peter Jackson films where men and women have their hearts pulled out by demons as the elegant French subtitles drift across the screen. And I've been dancing underneath mirrors and neon lights to the subterranean poundings of electro beats.

I met someone who told me that the baguettes in France melt in your mouth and he said I was a beautiful girl when his girlfriend's ear was turned away.

The whole time I've been watching all this as if it was behind the pixilated screen of a T.V.

I'm afraid if I go back I'll sink deeper into something I've tried my hardest to avoid. Its a tough thing to accept that you're the only one responsible for being so sad.