*&%$@#!!
what do we take for granted when the whiskey runs out? how long before the night ends do we stop playing games and start being honest not just to eachother but to ourselves? do we at all? maybe we'll just sit across the room from eachother staring and blowing kisses to all the wrong people. we've made out mistakes, yes. but we have not learned from them. is that what the old proveb is? you learn from you mistakes? who cares, fuck proverbs actually. so we chat just to pass the time till we go home with the one person we don't want to go home with. then we just deal with the consequences. jealousy? maybe. envy? possibly. lust? of course. secrets? definitely. these are the questions in my mind. will i ever ask you about any of them? probably not because i can sometimes be a weak person. yes i said weak, go fuck yourself it's my mind i can say whatever i want. can't i? yes. i can. okay so back to the whiskey. it was evan williams, of course, and instead of sipping on it, we chug it. instead of mixing it we do shots on the hour. slowly sedating ourselves to a drunken stupor. of course this is the only way we know to deal with our problems. at least that's true of me. where is this going? i'm not asking you. i'm asking myself.
dear diary,
dear diary,