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I'm wretched. sure.
I've cried for two and a half nights (last night I was well distracted). I look older.
You knew this would come right?
It comes because you knew it would.
Exactitude.
Who are you?
A question answered at death if then.
Would I like to die trying to know you?
At this point, yes. By monday, I will hopefully be purged of you. I will try.
(as gulas and I so aptly aphorized: no one is ever "I'm so glad I smoked all of my pot last night. what a relief that's gone.")
I'm alright with it - doing shit natural and stuff.
I haven't smoked since New Year's Day. Wow. Were I a smoker, I would be smoking a pack a day - chainsmoking.
I miss you.
To me, we were always in sabbatical... never out of it. Just getting stolen moments.
Yes, for some reason, there would likely be people waiting in line to foolishly try and foolishly make me happy. You tried. In your own way, you tried. Funnily, you never really realized that you were talking to yourself.
ah, I can't do this.
My mind hurts when I think of it, and I could cry on a dime.
Not manic, just very frustrated.
not depressed, just quite sad.
I wanted to speculate on the book of the dead.
I was a mistress with wretched timing.
Check you on May 1st.
For some reason, I will be on a bench overlooking the sea from 5:30 - 6:00.
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