you're not broken, but things will mend how they're meant to. the sun is coming back, it might not stay and you'll repair in fits and starts. like always. waiting's your weakness, but people get stronger at the things that elude them.
in forty minutes i am meant to go eat mexican food with the gays and the gals, and here i lay, spooning skippy peanut butter out of the jar onto wheat thins. WHY? you may wonder.
because, ladies and gentlefolk, i am deranged.
EDIT: 3:38am. gotta stop saying goodnight with pizza.