jeudi, octobre 16

I was here to please; I'm even on my knees

Still Bronte, for what it's worth. I've even pulled the curtains in the bedroom. They're red velvet and block the world out oh-so-well.

Take a lil look at the blogroll to the right: I've been wasting days reading through my old posts and the comments that match and have added some of the folks who are still out there, somewhere, under the rainbow.

Fuckinell! Someone is driving up and down my street with the bass cranked so high on their car stereo that it is actually HURTING MY HEARS (typo but I'm keeping it). Am I really getting that old or is it ok that I'd like to go outside and smash his/her windshield in with my air conditioner? Smashysmashy rage! And there they go again... OK I live on a really quiet street that dead ends in a canyon. Where are you going, little bassbin twin? What are you looking for?

OK so I have to stop reading my old posts. Going back through my personal history is having a weird effect on my mental health - like I can't shake the feeling that I'm just not fun anymore; that my life used to be so much more interesting than it is now. I need to stop rehashing my past, thinking about how much fun I *used* to have, and remind myself of how good things are now. I'm just not sure how to shake the funk and get over it, is all.