currently: feeling like shit.

*listening to Poe's Haunted*

So, I've been slowly getting sick over the last few days... and today's it's culminated pretty nicely into a nice little congestive disease.

I'm smoking a cigarette and drinking a strawberry daiquiri. Why? Because I don't have anything else to do. 'Cept maybe write in here and contemplate the many uses of stinky perfume.

I can't smell or taste anything. I had corn flakes for supper.

I tried to play to play PSO yesterday, but Rob was in supabitch mode, so it wasn't much fun.

I was going to bring Fox her CD, but my dad blocked me in the driveway with his car, and I feel too much like shit to go outside. Maybe tomorrow. I have to go out for class, anyhow.

Wow, I can taste the alcohol but not the strawberry. yummy yum yum.

I got to thinking about Justin the other day. Not really sure why. For a moment, I started to wonder what he's up to and all that crap, but then I stopped myself. Why should I care about him? Nevermind we were friends for who cares how many years.... Oh, well. It's nothing but my piscean halo worrying about people who aren't even in my life anymore. Good riddance. To think, I spent all that time with people that would be out of my life so quickly.... Kinda depressing, isn't it? I could have been saving my time.

what a terrible thought

Why'd I have to think about him? Ha, we used to have this psychic connection in which we knew exactly what the other was feeling. And he used to hold it over my head like a noose. Once, a year after high school, he told me that he loved me.... and... it felt fake to me, then; like something he'd pulled out of his back pocket. I regret telling him that I loved him, too, now. Cuz the more I think about it, the less I love him in my memory. And now, I fear there's barely any love to remember at all. How could I, hermit extraordinaire, possibly have felt love? Pah, reflecting on it only makes me feel more foolish, but I'm drinking, so I don't give a fuck. I felt obligated to admire him in the beginning because my soul companion, Ace, had noticed him first. And then... well... I allowed too much time in his company to pass. But it's not like the little bugger would let me go. No, he clung to my side at times, like a child to a teddy bear. Every time he broke up with a girl, there he was--back in my lap. Maybe I was a momentary distraction from his adolescent crises. It wouldn't surprise me. Actually, I might feel better knowing that I'm right.

I need another daiquiri... and where are my coffin nails?