I think that you’re a cunt.
I think that you are only a peppy and happy person because you are stupid and blind to the way the world really works. I think you are nice, but you are so damn stupid. So stupid.
I think that you are weak and that your efforts to please other people so that they will like you is going to blow up in your face when they stab you in the back and you get your feelings hurt. I really pity you and feel sorry for you that you aren’t smart enough to realize that.
I think you will never find what you are looking for because you are supremely immature and you will never be confident enough for the type of person you seek to be attracted to you.
I think you both are the best each other can do. I hope that is enough.
I think that I could use a drink.
I think that I am deeper than you.
I wish I could be you. I admire you so much, you and the walls you have built around yourself.
I think you are too selfish and materialistic to be the kind of mother your children need. I think that you do the bare minimum on the important things, like teaching right from wrong. I hate listening to you yelling at people on the phone to get your way. Grow the fuck up. I hate your "It’s all about me and what I want" way of living your life. You’re young. If you don’t change your ways you are going to have a really, really hard and painful life.
I think about you and that night in the bar alot and I feel guilty because I wanted to and you wanted to and you felt guilty about that and I didn’t. I am glad we didn’t, though. Really, really, really glad we didn’t. You deserve better than that.
I think that I am a lousy mother, because my child annoys the crap out of me. A lot. I am trying to be more patient, but fuck. I am afraid that she is going to grow up to be shallow and value beauty over brains and that scares the shit out of me. I try to remind myself that it took 34 years for me to get to my level and that she isn’t going to get there at8.
I think that you shouldn’t have done that. Not even for your son.
I think about getting in the car and just driving and driving and driving. And I think about finding you and running over you.
I think that I need to get back into gear and start walking again now that I am better.
I think that you are crazy. Batshit fucking crazy and I am convinced that you are lying about how you look on the internet and you are really, really fat in real life.
I think that the people who read this will guess on which of these may be about them and 99% of them will be wrong, wrong, wrong.
I think that I will probably die alone or I will die surrounded by family that will be in the act of annoying the shit out of me at the moment of my death.
I try not to think about death.
I think that most actors are really, really over rated and I am so sick of all the skinny pretty men and women that are in every single movie out right now. I miss men that looked like real men and not just really tall girl-boys.
I think Buck Angel is sexy as fucking hell and I don’t give a fuck what you think about that. I would totally fuck him. Totally.
I think that you need fashion counselling. You evidentally have no idea how fat you are, otherwise you would never wear the shit that you do.
I think you stink and I hate the way you smell.
I think that if you win the presidential election, you will be killed.
I think that quilting may not be as easy as I thought it would be. This rotary cutter thing is not as easy as it looks.
I think I want another kid? Maybe??
I think about how old I am getting all the time and I wish I could quit feeling like I am over the hill. I wish I could figure out how to feel young without doing the boozing and partying scene.
I think you might exsist, but I doubt that you notice that I do.
I think you need to shut up, because you look like a fool.
I think you should relax and trust him. I want you to be happy. You deserve it. I think you would be a great mom, too.
I think that politics are boring.
I think that I would let go of it, but I really have nothing better to do.
I think that sex is overrated.
I think that I may benefit from being medicated, but I don’t want to be. I may not be happy, but as long as I’m not miserable I can make do.
I think that you are the best thing to ever happen to me.
I don’t think that I am the best thing to ever happen to you, though.
I think sometimes you should get your feelings hurt. If it teaches you a lesson, then you probably shoud have learned it by now.
I think I am sorry. Check back with me later on that.
I think that time spent placing blame is time wasted. A wise man once taught me that. I always wished he could be my dad. He gives the best advice. I miss you, Hank.
I think that you dress very, very stylish. For 1987.
I think you are stupid if you think your husband isn’t gay anymore. All his groomsmen were ex-boyfriends. They threw his bachelor party. I know what happened there, too. You’re an idiot.
I think winning the lottery would be the best and worst thing that could happen to us.
I think you will never amount to anything.
I think you’re smarter than you know.
I think you’re husband is a complete and utter stupid asshole. You could do so fucking much better.
I think your breast implants are waaaaaaaaaaaay too big. And I wish that we were closer. We loved each other so much when we were little.
I think at least one of my brothers is gay.
I think that you guys are really cool and I had fun hanging out with you. I wish we could do that again, but when I am around you or I think about hanging with you again I feel like I am in sixth grade again and I am so insecure and scared that you guys are just setting me up to laugh at me because you don’t like me and don’t think I am as cool as you.
I think its time for another craft blog, but I need ideas.
I think I have run out of thoughts for one night.