I feel like nothing I ever do is right. I want to write a story but I can never think of anything. I want to draw a picture but I can never think of what to draw. This is my first page writing but right now it's just like another diary or journal. I write the same things over and over again in my journals and now I'm just repeating it here. I want to write a really fantastical, imaginative story like I always thought of when I was younger. I used to have so many ideas and now nothing ever comes to me. And sometimes when I do get an idea, I never have any time or motivation to go through with it. I'm so lazy. I feel extremely bad right now because I was doing pretty well yesterday with controlling my eating habits and then at the end of the night I fucked it all up. Now I feel like I have to starve myself or something. Except every time I try to, I just end up messing up again. And again. And then again. I guess I'll try writing a real story now. Once upon a time, in a fantastic, amazing, extraordinary land there was a little girl. This little girl had a cat who was her most bestest friend in the world. She had magical powers and they went on special adventures every day. There was a super special city far, far away. In the heart of the city was a tower that could be seen all across the land, no matter where you where. Somewhere in the center of that tower, not at the very top because that's too cliche, there was a beautiful and powerful stone gem thing that was the source of all the magical abilities in the land. It kept everything in balance and was the reason everyone in the land was able to live in peace. I hope a story like this has never been told before except it probably has because nothing is ever original these days. So one day something drastic happens to this stone, and the little girl and her cat must go find it. You see, the little girl is alive because she sold her soul to the devil and cheated death, but that's not exactly fair. So once this stone thing is stolen or whatever, she must go on a quest to save it or her or something. This sounds so cliche already, oh well. So So since death technically owns her soul, if she doesn't want to die he must do as he says. He wants control of this stone but it's gone but the girl doesn't want to get it back because then death would just try to take it again and it's all a just a very complicated matter. Anyways, there are some serious times when this girl actually does feel like just giving in to death, because that's obviously the easy thing to do. But since she hasn't gotten this powerful thing back yet he won't except her. So life really sucks for her. And her cat dies somewhere along the way. It's all very tragic, trust me. So I'm almost done filling up this page, thank God. So I think I'll just turn this into your typical high fantasy story. But it will all really be a metaphor for my life and the stupid life of a girl I'm living. It will also have a bunch of symbolism and shit, so that high schoolers in 50 years can analyze it. I'm laughing at them right now. In my mind. So yeah, this story will be really deep and stuff. WHOAWHOAWHOA. I just found out I can make the page bigger. That's awesome stuff, right there. Now I can write more without going to the next page. But yeah, doesn't everyone think that whatever they write or say or do is just so original and deep? Because it's really not. We're all shallow, stupid human being. But those are just my personal beliefs. Now I feel like I should just fill up the rest of this page with my incessant rambling. I don't even know what incessant means, but I hope I used it correctly. I don't want to actually start writing this fantastical story of mine until the next page. That's just one of my peculiarities. I'm peculiar about a lot of stuff. Like right now, I'm extremely worried about how this website is organized and stuff, but I don't want to leave this page to check it all out until I'm finished writing. I also just realized that instead of writing this stupid crap, I should probably be writing my poem analysis for English. Spelling and grammar is also something I have to be perfect with. But not as much so with grammar. I wish I had a pet unicorn. So badly. Or a hairless cat. That would suffice. I have 829 words so far but I guess this sentence just added onto that. I hate how my days are now measured by when I tell myself I can, like that's the only thing that's making me live. I can't wait for time to pass so that I can eat again. I feel like I should read more. When I was younger and had all my awesome ideas I read a lot more books a lot more often. I don't know what happened. He doesn't look a thing like Jesus but he talks like a gentlemen like you imagined when you were young. I'm pretty sure those are the lyrics. Guess what. I'm listening to that song right now. I bet you couldn't guess that. I realized that I talk to myself more often than is probably considered healthy. It's 3 :32 now. Almost a half hour since I started writing. I like writing when I'm the only one around. Because then my mom came home and now I'm all paranoid and all like DON'T READ WHAT I'M WRITING. I feel like she can read it all all the way from where she's standing in the kitchen. I'm freaked out.