The birds are confused. They've forgotten how to fly, or where, or something. I want to go and hang out with a bunch of friends I don't have, and make small sad conversations and drink during the day and do drugs I've already done. Drugs I don't even really want to do. I want to live another life for a little while. Go to parties that don't exist. Drive cars I don't know how to drive and travel down streets in shoes that are too big and too expensive and utterly not me. I want to be a tall thin blonde with very little going on inside my head. I want to get a manicure and piss myself laughing. I want to know people who've shit the bed and don't care and think its funny, because it is. A man in an SUV called out to me. I didn't make eye contact. A seagull flew straight into his windshield. I walked home.
That is something I wrote that is not true. Or maybe it is. Maybe its a character, or maybe its me. I don't know. I'm eating utz red hot flavored chips because I couldn't find flaming hots. Woe is me indeed.
Currently bleeding all over my dorm's kitchen floor. Tried to clean up with alcohol wipes. Didn't work. Someone had to help me out and grab some t.p. I cut myself on a purse...this is SO a fashion BLAHG.