So I haven't felt much like writing lately -- depression can do that to a woman, I guess. But my therapist (yeah, you smirk, but you know you have one, too)... anyway, my therapist said it'd be good for me to "process my feelings," so here I am.
How's that for an introduction? I don't know, it just feels weird to be introducing myself to my own fucking journal... Hah. I like that. Fucking journal.
What would that be like? My own fucking journal? I'd probably have to start with Mark, even though I still think he's a bastard, since he was my first. Then again, I'm the writer, so I could skip over that whole messy guy thing and start with Liesel.
Liesel. Liesel... she was sort of my first, too. Not like Mark -- I mean, the asshole practically stole my virginity (well, at the time, I wanted it, but still). Liesel was different. Liesel was... she was warm, and silly, but intelligent in a way that made you feel completely uncomfortable and completely at ease, simultaneously. Liesel was... Liesel.
It wasn't that hard to notice her. She wasn't loud or anything; she just always said everything as if she were absolutely right. And not even in a bitchy way, not arrogant or haughty at all. Just firm, and... resolute. If Liesel was anything, she was resolute.
Resolute, firm Liesel. Jesus, was she firm.... My mouth still waters when I think about her. She tasted like coconut -- it was this lip gloss she used to wear, that she got in Jamaica or something. Well, that's what she said. She probably could've picked it up at a gas station, but the first thing you learned about Liesel was not to question her. Firm, remember?