Nine.

Everything adds up to 9: especially 8 and 1.

And even when you're sure I'm talking about something better, something higher and more beautiful...

BAM! It's in your face again, and I've become yet another ball of contradictions,
another ball of controversy.
Love it, or leave it. Care for, or kill it. Woo me, or watch me walk.

They say we look alike,
my little one and I.

I'd like to confess...

What I am about to do, is very difficult for me. I would rather wait, until this incident is further in my past, but alas, I cannot sleep without being straight and open with you. Earlier today (I suppose now that it's after midnight, it actually occured yesterday, but for the sake of a flow I'll stick with 'earlier today',) I did something very foolish. It is highly unlikely that any of you could ever possibly imagine what crazyness I've gotten into during these long, solitary days that I have spent in my little prairie home. It is like 'Little House on the Prairies' here, except that I don't have a deaf/blind sister (actually I don't have a clue if that even happens in those stories, but it is definately true that Lisa is not deaf nor blind,) and here we have hot water and a microwave oven.
Before I go into details, I'd like to you view this picture of myself, taken over a year and a half ago. For their own protection, I have edited my three companions out of the photo, just in case they themselves would rather not publicly announce their affiliation with me.

I have chosen this particular photo because in so many ways, the girl in that photo IS the girl I was earlier this morning (yesterday), not only are we actually the same person, but we truly ARE the same person.
Take into consideration:
#1. In the left half of the picture, on the right side of the neck of my tanktop is a small office worker. An ordinary paperclip. I have since left my ever-popular fad of wearing paperclips in the past, but this small object is certainly not insignificant to my story.
#2. This photo is not, in any way, capable of fooling you into believing that I might be an attractive, normal teenage girl. It is very clear that the girl in this photo has issues.
#3. The black "peace" button (which I unfortunately have since lost,) accentuates my stomach, which is attatched to my intestines.
#4. I believe that shortly after my so-far unnamed "incident" today, I crossed my eyes, (or at least I definately felt the need to).
#5. My hair looks ridiculous, Michael Brock has only half finished cutting it, but I am still not wearing a hat. I wasn't wearing a hat today either, and I am sure that my hair looked almost that bad. The coincidences are shocking, I know.
#6. I am chewing gum. CHEWING.
#7. It's only May in this photo and I am ridiculously tanned. This has nothing to do with with confession, I'd just like to point out how strange that is, and pose the questions, "How?" and, "What does that even mean?"

Okay, I have lead you on far enough....

I placed an ad in the newspaper to find a new boyfriend.
Joking.
I swallowed a paperclip.
Not joking.

The poor paperclip, my poor intestines. I never meant for it to happen, honest. It was a nice paperclip, the rubber coated kind (although I'm not sure how long that will last in my stomach acids). It was pink and small, perfect for one of Lisa's school reports, her English teacher would have liked that paperclip.
I was working on something at my friendly glow-box, (probably writing and deleting lots of words I will never show anyone,) the only available stress-relieving chew-toy was that unfortunate paperclip. I had it in my mouth, bending it with my tongue, choming it with my molars... it wasn't quite as satisfying as chewing gum, or a pen lid, but it served its purpose. All of the sudden, whoooosh, it flew into the back of my throat, and was gone. ('Whoosh' is probably not the best sound effect, but give me some slack, it's been a long, crazy day and I'm out of creative juices.) I only felt it for a minute, and it certainly didn't hurt at all... but I panicked. "Ohhhh NOOOoooo!!!! What do I do? Do I go immediately and try to make myself barf?" (I have terrible gag refexes.) I wrote to my partner in sillyness, begging for advice, but she cleverly elluded my issues. (Probably has a lame alibi such as, "I was working," or crap like that.)

I opted out of vomiting.
I sat in disbelief, wondering just exactly how long the digestive process takes, wondering if I should go wash my disgusting hair...

It has finally come full circle.
I took those poor paperclips to their doom on many occasions. I wore them on display, only to later bend them, and break them.
Now this damned little paper clip has reached what I believe to be every paperclip's ultimate victory;
This carefully formed, little pink wire is wearing me. I am his adorning accessory.
I feel sick,
But I needed to get this out.
Thank you for listening.

I carve attention out of ice blocks. (I crave attention from the cold hearts.)

Note: The love I am giving out, with the ever-so-carefully drawn heart up in that right hand corner.
Oh, how I love thee, let me count the ways.

1)

Maybe later?

No, I am joking. I love you. You don't suck.
I just really wanted to post, because I am addicted to affirmation and attention. And I like this little computer background that my lovely sister drew for me.
We love so much.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

She comes around... and you'll never be the same.

Look at her, so happy. She's a magnet... try not to wear metal, or your heart around her.

It's no secret.
There's nothing we need to hide, nothing we must cover up.
I'm going to be loud.

When she comes around, you'll be happy again.
Your voices mingle; your words dancing neatly, and so very nicely together.
I'll have to smile, when I hear you giggle, because it's a real sort of joy.
She knows everyone's buttons.
She knows what makes you high.
She knows what makes you shut down. She can lock you in.
And you're so thankful for it.
You'll never thank her for it.

She's scared. No one knows it, unless she wants you to.
She hurts when she knows she's hurt you, especially when you point it out.
She's a little steel box, that girl, she's so secretive; she's an expensive country club.
We all want our lifetime membership.

Oh, she's so attractive. Beautiful in every sense of the word.
She'll make sure that we adore her.
It's a given though, no one needs persuasion.
She's everyone's star, their monday slayer, the sparkle in their eyes.
She's behind everyone's heart, keeping the pulse on time, or not.
She's got that power.
She tips the scale; the tie-breaking vote.
She's a wonder.
A charmer.

Look at her, so addictive. She's the poison and the cure-all.

You know I adore you.
All the best, keep your heart, Love.
And protect the hundred others you hold.
With great power comes great responsibility.

A-S-S-U-M-E, find out what it means to me.

I really wish I was funny.
This is me, eating a french fry. I'm allergic to french fries, can't digest the fat.
Ohhh, I'm trying.
I'm jealous of the witty ones.
Maybe I watch too much Gilmore Girls,
It doesn't help that all of my closests are actually that halarious in real life.
My hair is greasy. This photo shouldn't be released for the public.
I don't try to be quick, it doesn't fit me,     my life's harshest wardrobe malfunction.
Don't be shocked.
I'm "deep", but mostly just wordy and well, half the time no one knows what the hell I'm talking about,
                                                                        it's scary and doesn't earn a response.
So,    I really wish I were funny.
No,     I really wish I wasn't so afraid of myself.
But if I were funny,         I wouldn't have to think about that.
I suppose I can just settle for living through you,    hope you don't mind that I'm loud when I giggle,
    and sometimes, when I'm not careful,    I'll spew my juice.

But it comes in the package.
Juice boxes.

Whoah.
Yeah, sometimes I blow me away too.
Don't worry.
Smiles.