(no subject)
Woke up in someone else's apartment this morning walked around because the weather was fantastic. Grabbed a jamba juice. Got in n out. Got Costco fro-yo. Pet some pitbulls. Yada-yada. All that could have been part of a gloriously beautiful day if only I wasn't doing shit just to do shit. Just to put my mind in a different place, a place I obviously cannot be.
One of the many pinnacles of my own wretchedness. I almost want to give up I'm staring at my pack of cigarettes it'd be nice to throw in the towel. Denoument with them American Spirits as I watch the sun rise. As usual.
Sitting here 4:35 in the morning an essay more than a week overdue. Sitting here at my roommate's computer because mine won't start up proper and I've paid 50 bucks to fix it except I can't for at least another few days. Sitting here writing letters to myself and to my sweetheart trapped away.
My fucking sweetheart, trapped away.
Now I really want a cigarette.
A little pink stickie on the fridge what could it say? Oh, well fuck you too roommate thanks for saying it so nicely, though, on a pink post it. It really makes things easier when you're so goddamn passive aggressive, adding hearts to malicious notes. Sorry that my pot habit drives you so up the wall that you've gotta tell people behind my back that I'm unproductive and lazy. So much so that you had to arrange my magnetic poetry to say "smoke weed less" and then "drink more" right next to it. Sorry it upset you so much that you had to stick your sweaty finger in my jar of peanut butter and eat more than half of it. Oh yeah, and no, I'm not the one who ate your fucking ice cream. It was one of the roommates that you don't talk shit about, actually.
Oh, and sorry you missed your appointment with the school therapist, who you started going to because you overdosed on coke and got kicked out of the dorms. Sorry that you have a massive hangover from last night, too.
One of the many pinnacles of my own wretchedness. I almost want to give up I'm staring at my pack of cigarettes it'd be nice to throw in the towel. Denoument with them American Spirits as I watch the sun rise. As usual.
Sitting here 4:35 in the morning an essay more than a week overdue. Sitting here at my roommate's computer because mine won't start up proper and I've paid 50 bucks to fix it except I can't for at least another few days. Sitting here writing letters to myself and to my sweetheart trapped away.
My fucking sweetheart, trapped away.
Now I really want a cigarette.
A little pink stickie on the fridge what could it say? Oh, well fuck you too roommate thanks for saying it so nicely, though, on a pink post it. It really makes things easier when you're so goddamn passive aggressive, adding hearts to malicious notes. Sorry that my pot habit drives you so up the wall that you've gotta tell people behind my back that I'm unproductive and lazy. So much so that you had to arrange my magnetic poetry to say "smoke weed less" and then "drink more" right next to it. Sorry it upset you so much that you had to stick your sweaty finger in my jar of peanut butter and eat more than half of it. Oh yeah, and no, I'm not the one who ate your fucking ice cream. It was one of the roommates that you don't talk shit about, actually.
Oh, and sorry you missed your appointment with the school therapist, who you started going to because you overdosed on coke and got kicked out of the dorms. Sorry that you have a massive hangover from last night, too.