When I was little I had a stuffed animal named Racoony (yes, a racoon). Somewhere around late elementary to middle school he developed a hole in his neck. I started writing little notes and thoughts and stuffing the papers into his neck. In 10th grade I gave this racoon to a boyfriend when I moved away, as collateral I suppose. Needless to say I never got Racoony back. Somewhere out there (possibly turned to ash by an angry teenage boy) is my adolescent stuffed diary.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
The Gym
Hey, you on the treadmill. Me? Yeah, you. What in the world are you running from? 15lbs oh.
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