Hey. Yeah, you, with the anxiety.
Romantic love often goes sour.
Oh, I’m just buying econ-o-size multi-packs of mysterious herbal energy supplements off of eBay and having one-sided text conversations composed entirely of consonants and punctuation.
It will be terrible poetry. You will think it is monumental, groundbreaking, heart-wrenching poetry.
he is a ‘long struggling poet’ with ‘extreme reverance for art’ and is thus pretty socially isolated and critical towards me in sort of obvious ways
The Sea And Cake is a shockingly dull band. All the band members must’ve gotten together and been like, “We want to make music that renders people unconscious. How do we do that?”
I have at least five alarm clocks, none of which have snooze buttons and none even close to being at arm’s length from my bed. I have set up habits that put me in a sleepy mood earlier in the evening. I have taken pills. I have done everything save be shocked with a cattle prod in the morning.
A unstoppable urge swelled up in me. I had to get messed up and I had to go out again. I scoured the apartment for drugs. My roommate just broke his collar bone; I thought maybe there were some painkillers lying around. All I could find was more Ambien. Why not? I crushed one up and snorted it.
What do I need to do tomorrow? I know I have to fill out my W9, and go fax some stuff. I should probably do some laundry too. I don’t have any clean clothes and its embarrassing. Oh wait, am I still making out with someone?
Thou shalt never bring Twitter into real life interactions. Don’t utter the words, “HASHTAG” when out in public or exclaim, “I’m so gonna tweet that!” when your friend says something funny.