Monday, January 19
I think I probably need to not write here anymore, this whole thing might be a bad influence or exercise or something.
every once in a while I still stick my head out the car window and
Wednesday, January 14
I can't describe it well but it kinda feels like a lump in my throat but in my skull instead and it doesn't feel sad, quite exactly, but I know it will tomorrow morning. Or afternoon.
The sharper the memory the harder I try to grip it and squeeze it for everything it's got but it's jagged and not real and I'm bleeding from somewhere that doesn't exist for someone that doesn't exist the way I want them to. Maybe this "lump in my skull" is from my brain reaching for memories that aren't there, that I wish were there. That makes more sense. It fucking aches, it seriously aches. I need to go to sleep. Maybe that's why it aches.
Wouldn't it be funny if this weird feeling was actually just some terrible tumor or inner ear infection and I actually totally hated your guts? I hate your guts, I like that phrase. hateurguts
This is so fucking retardedly stupid and fucking stupid and the shit that only cornball idiots say on fucking weird blogs and is going to seem (is going to be) melodramatic but I just hope you are ok and not dead and at least hold onto some of the same stupid memerodsknalfklnllkllasdjkj
I'm getting kind of delirious, it's almost 4:30 in the morning, but it's kind of enjoyable.
Ugh, ok, are you supposed to drink Something de Cassis by itself? I'm going to try to leave that goopy sappy stuff behind now, but I'm going to continue writing and maybe just try to see how long I can keep going. Second wind, baby. Isn't it weird I just switched tones like that? It's kind of weird. Oh no, this post is already getting fucking reflexive in the most stupid, self-indulgent way possible, like it always does.
Alright, I do have kinda shitty story, actually. So I went to Harmontown by myself this past Sunday. I was ready to be disappointed but I was not disappointed at all by the show. I like going to things by myself, to an extent. I think I did more before when I was in high school maybe, now I'm too self-conscious, even more than then, somehow. Maybe not. Hard to tell.
Anyway, once the show ended I was too nervous to wait around the front of the store and possibly/probably meet any of those guys. I don't know. And afterwards people from the show went to a small dive bar less than a mile from my house but I couldn't even bring myself to buy a drink there. I pulled up once, drove home, went back to the bar, went inside the bar, awkwardly stood approx. 14 inches from the bar with my wallet out, then drove home and got ripped off at a liquor store on the way. What the fuck. I told that all fucked up, I think it was more interesting when I was all whiny and bitching about fucking memorayz and stuff that was boring. Well
The sharper the memory the harder I try to grip it and squeeze it for everything it's got but it's jagged and not real and I'm bleeding from somewhere that doesn't exist for someone that doesn't exist the way I want them to. Maybe this "lump in my skull" is from my brain reaching for memories that aren't there, that I wish were there. That makes more sense. It fucking aches, it seriously aches. I need to go to sleep. Maybe that's why it aches.
Wouldn't it be funny if this weird feeling was actually just some terrible tumor or inner ear infection and I actually totally hated your guts? I hate your guts, I like that phrase. hateurguts
This is so fucking retardedly stupid and fucking stupid and the shit that only cornball idiots say on fucking weird blogs and is going to seem (is going to be) melodramatic but I just hope you are ok and not dead and at least hold onto some of the same stupid memerodsknalfklnllkllasdjkj
I'm getting kind of delirious, it's almost 4:30 in the morning, but it's kind of enjoyable.
Ugh, ok, are you supposed to drink Something de Cassis by itself? I'm going to try to leave that goopy sappy stuff behind now, but I'm going to continue writing and maybe just try to see how long I can keep going. Second wind, baby. Isn't it weird I just switched tones like that? It's kind of weird. Oh no, this post is already getting fucking reflexive in the most stupid, self-indulgent way possible, like it always does.
Alright, I do have kinda shitty story, actually. So I went to Harmontown by myself this past Sunday. I was ready to be disappointed but I was not disappointed at all by the show. I like going to things by myself, to an extent. I think I did more before when I was in high school maybe, now I'm too self-conscious, even more than then, somehow. Maybe not. Hard to tell.
Anyway, once the show ended I was too nervous to wait around the front of the store and possibly/probably meet any of those guys. I don't know. And afterwards people from the show went to a small dive bar less than a mile from my house but I couldn't even bring myself to buy a drink there. I pulled up once, drove home, went back to the bar, went inside the bar, awkwardly stood approx. 14 inches from the bar with my wallet out, then drove home and got ripped off at a liquor store on the way. What the fuck. I told that all fucked up, I think it was more interesting when I was all whiny and bitching about fucking memorayz and stuff that was boring. Well