I get miserable when I can’t sleep. Images of the past and my myriad mistakes keep me from drifting. Part of me probably doesn’t want to go to sleep, part of me probably wants to avoid that moment upon waking when I remember how absolutely shitty it all is. Fear and self loathing in Skokie, Il. And my stomach hurts from drinking and I think I might throw up. But that’s what we do, we drink and we smoke and we dance and then I choke on all my words and wonder how in the hell the ball ended up in his court again. Fucking social lubrication. Some people are afraid of commitment, I am afraid of whatever the opposite of that is. Don’t you just want to shake him and scream YOU CAN’T PROTECT YOURSELF FROM SADNESS WITHOUT PROTECTING YOURSELF FROM HAPPINESS.. hypocrite and opportunist. I just want someone to think of me when they hear that one really beautiful flaming lips song, you know the onethings I hate about relationships part un: one person always has stronger feelings than the other. as oscar would say, I’ve got really heavy boots right now. heavy heavy boots. and I just hope he gets me some flowers or something for my birthday but I know that the chances of that happening are less likely than the chances of my toes spontaneously combusting right this very second. (because I doubt he knows it’s even going to be my birthday. I am FREAKING because I keep getting this feeling that it’s going to be the worst birthday EVER.) I worry that I’ll have a kid just because I want something that will love me forever. That’s like maury povich shit. But I worry that I’ll do it. I’m just very very down. I only blog when I’m drunk, do not take any of this seriously. but you probably should, I don’t call it truth serum for nothing.

all he’s and you’s and they’s are vague and are not directed at anyone basically. unless you know I’m talking about you: then, sir, I am afraid it is you I am referring to.

I pretty much want to go to central and south America right now.

here is my bourgeois secret: I wish I was latin American. like really really badly.
because I find the culture “fascinating”.
I AM THE DEFINITION OF BOURGEOIS.
THAT IS ME. MIDDLE CLASS CLUELESS PRETENTIOUS AND GENERALLY FUCKED.