Good tattoos ain't cheap, cheap tattoos ain't good

"And the hardest part of this, is leaving you."

I guess i'm doing fine. I cant really tell for sure but i think i'll be okay. Till you get home and into my already pumped-up arms.

Camp 5 and the gym are doing magical things to my body mass or some sort. The flabs are turning into abs i suppose, and my skin slowly feels too tight on me. Which could probably mean i'm on the right track to regaining the ultimate level of climbing and a magical figure.

Prior to this, i have successfully dispell the impression to others that i'm a growing glutton who does not potray visual evidence of getting heavy. Until now, when i lift my shirt above my abdomen, you'll see. Typing that just makes me feel like binge eating.

One thing i'm not on course to regaining is the spark to write. I feel bland and boring.

Haircut. I probably need a haircut.

The concert was wet. But awesome nonetheless. Gerard Way is one cheeky lad. Heh. Good concert with complimentary stiff neck and sore throat.

Gosh, i'm thinking so much. Not fun anymore now that i cant write.

Jinny