My favourite memories tonight involve lazily crossed legs, overlooking traffic and more honesty than is considered palatable. Come get me drunk on some raksi and I'll spill all my secrets and not even remember anything afterwards. Honesty is my specialty. Though not having anything to say makes things harder? Work is just my day job. My real job is to keep the hordes' secrets. Of some people I don't even like. At all! My non paying, staying with me all the time, can't switch it off, can't talk about it, doesn't allow me to look at some things & people the same way ever again job is to keep secrets. So do me a favour, don't tell me any. I don't want to know you. I understand that the need to reveal yourself, to have some sort of affirmation, to expose all your grisly bits, to keep picking at your skin till your insides show is marvelously cathartic and makes you feel good, but fuck off, not here.
Internet, my kingdom for pizza. At 5:15 AM. My kingdom for some pizza.
I'm constantly amazed at how simple he makes it. Some secrets, I guess, are always okay.
I was not, I lived and loved, I am not. Internet, tonight it is enough. It is enough it is enough it is enough.