death
is a sore subject for me for two reasons. I don’t want to think about them. But when death is brought up at anytime, i.e. in a musical, I tend to loose composure. Why is that something people don’t understand? I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. People always worry. I’m people, I worry. I don’t like anxiety caused by too many people, nor do I like anxiety caused by being alone.
I was held by a naked man in public today. He was a cowboy. He was the naked cowboy.
I love new york.
I hate new york.
I’m watching eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Sometimes I remind myself of Clementine. Except I’m afraid of people, so I wouldn’t hold a conversation with someone I think I don’t know on a train, and tell them I’m a vindictive little bitch. I just wouldn’t, but I’m fairly bipolar like she is.
I spent $40 on eyeshadow today because I didn’t want to leave empty handed.
Let’s get drunk.
My mind doesn’t make sense.
I’m joining the Peace Corps.
kbai.
