I have a car.
I have the car.
I am in love with a slightly battered woman.

I loved that yam WAY more than I loved my cat!


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Today, I ate a slim jim.

Life is immediately better. However, yesterday I threw a piece of PVC pipe at my father (and hit him), and today I kicked my cat really hard. I feel horrible, but I'm pretty sure that's only because I know that's what I'm supposed to be feeling.

I could snap any day now. I'm a tiger.

Yesterday I'm at the doctors' office and they ask me to give them a urine sample before I get checked out. I comply, and am thrilled to notice as I slide it into the transfer wall-box that it's filled with blood.

What do you do, you know? Personally, I chose to mutter angrily to myself, Just in time.So I'm happy to report that as of yesterday, ( Read more... )

I don't know what to do.

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Earlier today I fell alseep in the school bathroom with my head under the hand dryer.

(It was one of those hand dryers that doesn't stop until there's nothing underneath it.)

There is a thing the size of my outstretched hand, the clump of its middle bright red and triangular and surrounded by brown-gray vibration, and it is flying and it is coming through the sliding glass door, and for a second I think it is a locust and totally freak out. Then I believe it is a hummingbird and try to shut it in the door track to death ( Read more... )

I'm eighteen years old.

Drugs aren't so bad.

How am I supposed break it to you that life isn't exactly constant pain and anger anymore, but rather clips and static flicks of anguish at inappropriately stylish [edit: stylishly inappropriate] moments due to my own sick personal choice? I fell down a couple days ago, and it was, in every damn cliche, the longest fucking half a second of my life ( Read more... )