Jan 15
this longing
i miss us. i don’t know what i’m going to do after the fourth. i’ll have nothing to base my life around. i guess there’ll be memories, but they’re fleeting. i need substance; a new obsession? ugh, how sad. again, the questions come pouring in.
i still haven’t even begun to try to think about writing. i’m terrible. with me every thing’s either terrible or awesome. ow, mi estómago. i should eat something. i didn’t even realize how long ago i’d heard of plain white t’s. i think they made up a word in harvey birdman. too bad, i liked it. my leg hurts.
okay, enough randomness. time to eat? . . .
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