well then.

i'm feeling lethargic; it could be the $18 breakfast or my plan to drive to school today. i pull back from myself when i regress to a way i hate-
spending money
lazy
lazy
driving
driving while intoxicated
driving
lazy
spending money

i hate this cycle.

it could be the resin hit.

i am shiningly infatuated with you

oh, yes. how is it that i can get exactly what i've wanted?

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welcome to hell.

consumed by you

how can i face it if it is trapped in my mind? i can't presume a way out. i only envision it, i can not actually see it. i am blinded by several things. all of these things i can easily consider as a problem. a reason. proof that i am wrong. it is hard to overlook those stares, those eyes, those mysteries that i recognize in myself. i am just intrigued by it, i think, understandably so. but i am scared to think that it could never happen. because, it could end up that way. end. end. i don't want this to end. i look forward to any inclination from you. because it makes me think about what could be so much harder. sometimes i love this dream world i create for my self.

ask me how i'm doing

the other day adrienne read my cards, and right next to my card, in the near future, was the death card. the other night, i was tripping, and by the end of the night i was just having a steady body high, although bob was upset with me. i started crying after i felt all these scabs on midnight's neck. i thought i had some sort of distorted yet accurate realization. since then i've passed off that thought, although i've noticed midnight is still acting god awfully weird. i'm worried, and maybe i shouldn't be, but there are still a myriad of things that are on my mind that have been bothering me.

i'm just bothered. worried. mostly worried. my mother is about to leave my father, and my older sister recently told my father about everything. my aunt recently told my sister about everything, causing such, and since then i've had this really sour feeling every time i go home. i've gone home twice as much in the past couple months than i have this entire year. my car will be the death of me. (speaking of such, i got into my first car accident the other day after i left parkgrounds. woe is me. . )

i've acquired a fake id. here it comes.

up the punx

r.i.p.
everyone in atlanta knew you. even the guy from texaco, who asked bob and i where the funeral service was going to be - even he had to go pay his respects. after your wake everyone came to jack's and they trashed the place, but it was well fucking deserved. mari was chain smoking the day after your death. death has such a weird, curdling effect, almost. the tears equal no amount of life learned and lived of you.

1963 baptême du feu