17.May.2001

ick fuck

--

and if you can't, it's not the same

I am blending myself with my Muse, and it's getting weirder and weirder as the days progress. I am contemplating finally putting this to rest and saving entries to a .TXT file on my hard-drive. Mostly, in my delirium, my headache is killing me, and I am marvelously uncreative.

I crave happy things.

That kind of blows my goth cover.

Happiness! I want it to come to me in long-lasting flows instead of Advil-less spurts.

Stupid fucking head. Who told you you could feel?

Note to self:
Please blend fantasy with reality, and then shut the fuck up about it.

xoxo,
me.

--

time & machine