i am a sitcom cliche
the old bf was crabby to me last night so i stayed home from work and ate. potato chips with nacho cheese and hot wings and cheesecake and i wasn't even hungry. uh. why do i self-destruct? i've been up all night and i have to work at ten tomorrow. fuck. i have no toilet paper. nothing's more humbling then waddling to the kitchen for a paper towel with your pants around your ankles. why do i eat my feelings? goddammit. does anyone even read these anymore?