(no subject)
My new job is like constantly living in the Lucero cover of Jawbreaker's, "Kiss the Bottle." It's not a permanent solution, but it's a good change. Maybe, I should keep that idea rolling and stop hanging out with Aimee? Though, I really don't have to think about that for three weeks. Monday, she flies over seas until early August. I know it's an old complaint, and I sound fifteen, but I really wish one of these ladies I fall in love with would stick around. I'm getting pretty tired of it. I'm a fucking catch goddamnit. "Either you're too mean, or you're too nice, said he even cooked her breakfast." Aimee and I have been breaking up for the past eleven months. August fourth, will be a year of this blurry bullshit. We met four years ago today, and I'm the one still stuck with butterflies when I'm around her. Enough of that fifteen year old bullshit for tonight! I'm stoned, half drunk, and The Shawshank Redemption is on. Fuck letters, mix tapes, and heart strings. Only not.