8 days a week.

Blegh and what the fuck is going on here? Seriously.

Got a job doing man work. Should last through the week. But, money.

Eggwhites and coffee all day and sangria with vodka makes this manageable.

And so life on the couch in this fuck-off town goes:

4 minute warning

Back in FL. My car's still a mess. I got greeted with real cigarettes and liquor (see above). I miss Andrew. Should be going to NY tomorrow...but realistically will be the day after.

Phonecalls. Hate making them.

.

3033

Portland:

Drank entirely too much boxed wine and did some very, unexplainably bad, things. eh. Finally saw some live music, but don't remember who they were. All in all, had a very good time, while staying very drunk/hungover. And I somehow managed to break my laptop. Fuck.

Since the laptop is being a bitch, our music choices are pretty slim for the remainder of this trip. In Rainbows (both discs!), a mix of Violent Femmes, The Devil Makes Three, and some very scratched Leda CDs. Yesterday we learned that Seattle's radio is just as bad as every other city's while trying to find ghetto jams in the mess of whining country about dead puppies and battered wives or some shit. eh.

Oh, Seattle:

Arrived yesterday and waited around for my friendie Sarah to get out of school. Saw the space needle and bought some postcards for my brother that he won't even get until I'm already back. Very odd. Took some pictures, which I can't post, which sucks, a lot. Drove around eating fruity pebbles and checking out hot bitches. 99 cent tacos are both revolting and delicious at the same time...fake cheese and beef like dog food.

So Sarah called me. We got lost and then found it. Sat around discussing film for awhile, which apparently comes with a very heavy workload for the students. The Seattle night life was awesome. Played trivia in a bar, the only questions we knew came from the Wayne's World category, which was a movie I don't remember liking all that much. Cults and Track and Field and Greek Mythology kicked our asses, which is what happens after switching to whiskey. Needless to say we didn't win a free pitcher, but I did spend gas money on pbrs, so we'll definitely be jugging back to FL. I actually remembered to pay my tab (for the first time in my life). We dragged ass to IHOP to consume fried fat and cholesterol, which is always the most delicious thing you've ever tasted when your slurring your speech and stumbling about. They post all the calories here, even though there's still fast food on the corners. I'm unable to understand this noise....if you're going to eat it and you know it's complete shit then why do you even want to know? Anorexia would become a viable option.

We leave today. 3033 miles...500-ish miles a day...we could be back in 6 days.

What am I going to do with reality? Fuck.

My computer is fucked. Very much broken.

Updates will be few and far....

Not going to sit around drinking wine all day and making mistakes with my phone. Atleast not until afternoon.

Bin Laden didn't blow up the projects

It was you.

I got a stupid picture bullshit.

Cava: http://www.flickr.com/photos/headsonsticks

We've got heads on sticks

Champagne don't make me lazy, cocaine don't make me crazy

Portland, finally.

MD2020 is some wretched shit. Cheap. Technicolor. Sugar coated blackout in a bottle.

Last night we went to a gas station that had locks on the booze fridges. Asking for the key makes you feel like a complete alcoholic, which you'll be taken for anyway because you're buzzed and look like a hobo. Awesome.

Fun fact for the day: Portland has the most strip clubs per capita. They even have a pirate-themed one. Needless to say, we've got to see that shit. Half naked bitches with peg legs? I'm there.

She feels so washed out

Eugene, OR

The last few days in Medford went rather smoothly. Ate entirely too much and got better at crossword puzzles. Played in the snow at Crater Lake. Saw the Oregon coast, which is a lot like the Florida coast, but more brutal. Held my breath and sent out "It's been nice knowing you" texts as Kevin drove on the edge of cliffs with a clenched jaw and threats for anyone that got in his way.

We arrived in Eugene early this evening and eventually found Dennis' (Dru's uncle) home. This guy has been everywhere. In my best dreams of traveling I am this guy....he transformed the inside of a school bus into a camper and traveled across the country. Another time he drove across the country to live at a commune. Currently, he owns a home in Panama and the one here in Eugene and travels around the world with his wife dancing the tango. Shortly after arriving I got the drink that I've been needing since I walked through that door in Medford. Can't remember the name of the beer, but it was dark and strong and liberating. Food came next, which was delicious, but killed my buzz...very unfortunate.

Tomorrow, Portland. For threefourfive days.

A couple weeks, Florida.

Hopefully, New York.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I want this tattooed on my body

Gotta get to Portland.

After this trip, I'll never settle down again.

Fuck it.

"I never did anything to hurt you."

Medford.

Arrived Sunday night after a full day of driving filled with me in a panic and wanting to sick up.

Went to my grandparents' house. My dad answered the door and I didn't recognize him. Hugs and "I've missed you so much" all around. Felt very detached. He had the full water works going, apologies and love and such. Managed to become numb, hollow, and in desperate need of a smoke and a shot.

Disappointed? No. Did I have expectations? No. They haven't invented words for right now.

I got nothing. Here's what I journaled last night, maybe it will make sense.

04/13

Sitting outside thinking "I can see my breath" and doing that awkward thing where you open your mouth, form a wide circle, and push out all the air in your lungs. Like a kid in the snow. Cold air rushes in and it burns. I'm staring at an empty street, full stomach, organs reacting all wrong, skipping beats like stones. Feeling haunted but I don't believe in ghosts, so even my thoughts are all wrong. I'm sitting like this, with a salt and pepper cat at my feet, and I'm waiting for a car to drive up. Get bored of seeing my own breath and realize, "Who the fuck am I waiting for?". The chair is cold, my fingers are numb, but I can't shake this feeling. This thought that someone is coming. Any minute I'll hop in the passenger seat, rubbing frozen hands together that sound like sandpaper but don't feel at all. It'll be warm inside and we'll smile at eachother. I'll look back at the now empty chair, the still and lonely cat next to it, the half cigarette left burning in the ashtray. Any second it will happen but the street is still empty and the only sound here is the obnoxious tinkle of windchimes. The lights are on inside the houses and the news is on behind me, but no one is coming and Mr. Salt and pepper is cold. I'm outside of it, haunted by more than ghosts and today you said "I never did anything to hurt you" with my name tagged on for emphasis. If I could have made a sound without having to feel too much I would have told you. I would have pushed my words into your ear. I would have repeated until you had to believe it, "You just did".

Drowning in a lake of yuppies.

Lake Tahoe:

This morning we started the drive from whatever shit hole town we stopped in to sleep to Lake Tahoe. Stopped at a rest stop because it had copious amounts of snow. We ran around like idiots until our smoker's lungs sent us back to the car. Leda Leda (the boogie board that stands in for all the times that my best friend Leda should be there but can't be) came out to play. We tried going down some hills with it, which was much less extreme/dangerous than I was hoping.

Moi: We're about to take a boogie board down this hill!

Mom: What?! I don't want to hear you breaking your legs!

Moi: No, it's okay. Andrew is going first.

No broken legs. Not even a bruise. How very unexciting.

After the "extreme" sports we drove to Tahoe. Got in the general vacinity (mountains and cliffs and locals that know what they're doing) and it started snowing a bit. Dru broke his driving-through-snow cherry while I stuck my head out the window like a complete idiot.

Camping tonight. Should be utterly fucking freezing. In case we drive off a cliff/lose all appendages to frostbite/get eaten by bears, I love you all. Now go buy some whiskey and overnight it to me. Oh. And. Before you watch the following video, don't you dare judge me. I was overexcited. Overstimulated. Drank too much coffee. So on and so forth.

Fuck fuckity fuck

I just now, quite painfully, remembered the original point of this whole trip.

I'm fucking scared to death.

I need an address. Or a phone number.

Completely hypothetically, let's say you drove across the country to confront your dead beat father and his complete lack of parenting skills...would you call first? Or just show up?

Knock knock.

Who's there?

You owe me a drink.

Everything hits at once

Ughhhhhhhhhh.

Today was one of those days where absolutely nothing, not one damn thing, went right. Not even close.

We stayed in Albuquerque again last night. Played a game involving some form of hacky sack mixed with tennis....sort of. Hard to explain, but a very good time. I'm sorry to have to inform you, but I am a giant dork. I don't like going to sketchy places. I won't jump a fence. In this aspect I am the epitome of a party pooper. The icing on that cake was the comment "She just gets like this sometimes". Sorrys all around, but seriously, big fucking deal.

Another sleepless night and we woke up later than we had meant to. Didn't get to shower or change clothes and felt all gross and disgusted. Drank too much coffee and headed to Flagstaff around 4, a good 3 hours later than we should have. I wanted to take pictures of the desert, but the golden arches and trashed casino signs kept getting in the way. Got a call from home that left me a bit wrecked, concerned, and more anxious than I've been since Sta. Considered hiding in the rest stop bathroom for a couple days but it smelled like farts and cat urine (all the rest stops off I-40 smell like this, the air reeks with it as soon as you get off the interstate). Drove towards Flagstaff, hands shaking and grinding my teeth and all that fucked up noise. Controlled a major panic attack; looking back now, having that ability was the high point of the day.

So, Flagstaff. Splurged and ate at Dennys and regretted it. Then we drove around trying to find hotels to steal wireless from while also trying to locate the Wal-Mart that we planned on sleeping at. Found a Sam's that wasn't 24 hours, Fuck. Enough time passed for Dru and I to go from able and willing to completely delirious and pissed off at everthing/everyone/maybe even eachother. Kept rolling cigarettes that kept ripping at the half way point. The computer turned into a raging asshole and stopped connecting to the internet properly while also only playing the songs that it chose, all of which hindered any kind of progress in our quest to get out of the damn car.

Started dreaming of the perfect place to squeeze my head as hard as I could and scream obscenities at unsuspecting locals. Got hopeful when we figured out where the W-Mart was via the atlas, only to discover that the atlas is a lying fuck-face. Gave up and looked for a cheap motel. Gave up again and splurged. Too much money later we get a room. The TV is fucked. New room, here I am.

Glass half full shit: We have beer and tobacco, even if I do keep ripping the papers. Lost is on. A friendship that I thought was over (a fact that I was not at all pleased with) is patched up, which helps with the whole shit-I-actually-have-to-go-back-to-Sta-after-this-trip crap. Tomorrow we're going to the Grand Canyon, even though it's expensive, but I don't really care at this point because there's absolutely no fucking way that golden arches and billboards and semis will get in the way. Leda is alive and well (and shares my new found love for Jameson. Sorry Jack, we're through). I'm no longer nauseous and anxious and my hands aren't shaking.

So. Shit day finally gone right. Awesome. Happier post next time.

10 hours of sleep

gtg, buddy, good to go

This deserves a post.

We arrived in Oklahoma City this evening and had a place to sleep via the couch surfing website. Went there and were greeted with a shot, which was nice after the drive. Hung around until our host got out of his hockey game. We're staying in the artsy area, so it's pretty sweet. Lots of awesome people and things to do. So OKC nightlife ensued. Went to some bar. Wednesday night is lady's night, apparently, which saved some money.

A couple free beers (lady's night) and a couple shots (Thankyou to the host) and all was good.

After this things start getting a bit messy. Not on my part or Andrew's, just to let you know.

Mr. Host gets drunk. Not like oh-I'm-a-little-stumbly drunk. Full on wasted face. Can't stand, incoherent, plastered. Please keep in mind that this is the proverbial broken cherry of couch surfing for moi.

Best quote: Don't get me arrested. I'm drunk.

So here we are. The poor guy is very drunk. We took care of him for awhile. I can't sleep, not like that's anything new since New Orleans. It wouldn't matter how fucked he was, he's a good guy. I loved the night here and would do it again, but only with him, that's how awesome he is.

Good people and better stories is why I could do this forever. Wanting a place to call "home" is why I won't.

Tomorrow is 9 hours and then Albuquerque and Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. Then Tahoe. San Fransisco. Oregon and multiple stops. Seattle. Then it's 2999 miles to Florida and possibly wanting to do it all over again. Suggestions on a new place to live are greatly appreciated.

Dallas.

I miss New Orleans. Andy. Matt. Whiskey from a flask. Good music. Conversations that last until 6 am. Hostel. Dirty streets. The hope of getting flashed. Staying warm. There was rabbit in my food. The Mississippi was mud and potato chip wrappers.

Not missing being in the car. Hand Grenades. Job. Rent. Wearing a thermal.

I want a ukelele, but it's not my style. And one of these days I'll start taking pictures again.

"Step out of the car, ma'am"

Worried about the things at home. May have to go straight back to Sta if the situation worsens. Vivian, if you read this, then please know that you mean more to me than any trip or person or feeling. You're my heart.

Gotta get outta this. Gotta get outta Texas. I need to sleep for more than 3 hours.

Funny story time. Well...sort of. Last night I slept in my car (by choice) and around 8 this morning I wake up from the first bit of real sleep in days to a loud banging on my window. Cops! Had to get out of the car, answer a long list of questions, and look like a very sleepy idiot. I do so love being treated like a rapist/arsonist/malicious individual. "Concerned citizens"? Ha, be afraid bitches. Be very afraid.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmeal time.

I've become smelly by default. Unfair.

New Orleans has stolen my heart. It's busy and dirty and sometimes a bit smelly and I love it.

The hostel we stayed in was great too. Met entirely too many awesome people. A wonderful thing happens when you're in a strange place surrounded by people who are in the same predicament. Friendships are made, connections abound, and I found myself wondering "Where the fuck are THESE people in St.Augustine?". Another sign that it's time to move on, to a place where one can drink, go out and actually find things to do, AND have good conversation. Can't remember the last time I had those things in Sta. Anyways. That's where my head is right now.

Currently the Corolla is at maximum capacity. We picked up some hostel kids, three to be exact, and a dog and their instruments and backpacks and such. This morning (around 4-ish) we arrived in Austin. Found a Walmart and slept in the parking lot. Discovered cheap bread and 48 cent avocadoes. I didn't sleep until 7-ish, however, I was able to write a bit while rolling decent cigarettes. Not a bad morning at all.

6-7 hours of sleep in 2 days. Thankyou coffee, you have saved my life. Maybe pictures once I get the drive/motivation/find some shit to take pics of.

I got bourbon faced on shit street.

Soooooooooooooo.

New Orleans 2:

Bourbon st. Took the trolley from le hostel to drunkfaceland. Drank a hand grenade that came in a cool cup that we ended up losing later on. Was told to "be careful" many times. Dru and I walked back and forth drinking beers and checking out the half nakeds outside the strip clubs. Got pretty drunk. Met a broke dude named Couzan, bought him a beer, and told him I loved him a couple times. Drank more beer. Met two dudes (Willy and Tim) and they took us to a bar with 5 dollar pitchers, which Andrew and I monopolized. I think there were 4-ish all together....but things started getting fuzzy. Tim and Willy kept commenting on how pretty I looked, which wasn't even creepy since I was so trashed that I was convinced that I was the hottest piece of ass in town. Wasteyface! Andrew got completely shit faced, some d-bag started giving me some shit about joining the airforce ("I can't, I'm Jehovah's Witness"), and then it was time to go. Somehow I drunkenly managed to drag Dru to the trolley stop and then completely blacked out. Passed our stop but somehow got to le hostel. Dru slept and I hung out with hostel kids. Came back to just long enough to drink more, smoke a joint outside the church, and then blackout again. Navigating the hostel when brain dead is difficult, but some dude helped me even though I was a drunk bitch (I don't actually remember this, but dude told me this morning). And now I'm broke and can't do it all over again. Sad.

Needless to say, this place is fucking awesome. Lots of shit to photograph, leaving me torn between actually getting to Oregon or getting an apartment and an awesome camera here. Conundrum.

Today we walked around the French Quarter in search of food for about 2 hours. I really want a daiquiri but lack the funds. People start drinking here when they wake up. My cigarettes were 7 bucks. I hope things get better in old Sta for everyone. We're actually couch surfing in a couple days in Oklahoma city (woot). I need to make a mix for Leda and Nick and mail shit and print out pictures to use as postcards. I miss everyone.

New Orleans.

Last night we did Bourbon st., which ended (ofcourse) in Bourbon st. doing us. I was told to be careful four times by four different people. Fuck that noise. We met some drunk guys that have lived here for 54 years and found a place with cheap pitchers, which ended up being a bad idea. Eh, right now I'm too hungoverhungrytiredthirsty to do details. So....pictures and more....not right now, later.

I'm gonna get something nice.

Leda,

Today we went into a used bookstore in Hipsterland and they had Le Monde. So I picked it up and tried to make sense of it. And ofcourse I teared up. Ofcourse. And then I looked for All Story, but they didn't have it. Is there anything lamer than hiding in the science section, reading the titles of astronomy books, and crying? I wouldn't call it homesick, but I do miss having a home. Not a house. Not a bed and a TV and a shower. Not even anything I've had for the past couple years. I miss that feeling of security, happiness, whatever it is. Those moments when you can honestly say "This is enough. This, right here, is what I need." I hate that those moments come so rarely, and always with the people that mean the most but you see the least.

Ugh. Anyways. Done being funky.

We decided to splurge tonight on a cheap hotel. I've never been so excited to lie around and watch bad TV.

I've become a master at rolling cigarettes. Very good, since Obama is raising taxes on all forms of tobacco. Meaning that rolling is the only way I can afford this habit, and I don't plan on quitting. No no no. I'm still as supportive as I was at the get-go. And unless he pulls something scary Bush-like, I'll continue on that way. Now I should stop, before I rant about how ridiculous our country is.

Leda, I miss you.

run on

Holy shit my eyes are falling out of my head and I'm not even tired I'm not even tired and people are falling asleep and people are being woken up but I'm not even tired no I'm not thankyou very much but damn do I ever need a cigarette or a glass of wine or both maybe both would make my brain stop but I'm not even tired and beirut is beautiful I could cry right now but I won't because my eyes will fall out they will they will they will I'm fucking telling you that none of this makes sense so what the hell are you me us even doing maybe we just all belong there at that place that I should have stayed but I couldn't no no no not until I did this but here I am and maybe sleep would help but what is sleep if your dreams are worse than being awake I'd like to know what to do when being awake and being asleep are one and the same let's just go to that place I'm still there yes I am yes I am but fucking believe me I'm not even tired I'm awake and finally I'm awake and finally all the nothing is making sense or maybe it's finally just nothing nothing at all nothing at all a fake and a lie and it's nothing I promise I do really I do it's nothing.

24 hours

Asheville, NC:

We've been in a 24 hour coffee shop for about....four hours. My hands are shaking. My mind is racing. We have nowhere to sleep. So we'll be here for the duration.

Too many thoughts that I can't seem to organize. A feeling that I'm becoming more lost in trying to find out where I'm going.

Actually accomplished writing a story that I'm not entirely disappointed with. And a poem about a boy that I am. Being here reminds me of too much. Everything lost and the nothing gained. How can you have memories of a place you've never been? I'm missing something I never even had.

Not in a bad mood. Contemplative? Sure.

I don't miss St. Augustine. But I miss tiny aspects that always seemed so insignificant. A list wouldn't do justice, so I'll refrain from trying to put this mess in my head into words.

Please don't let me be misunderstood.

Montgomery, Alabama:

Today my five year old friend Gwendolyn hugged me, looked up at her father, and said "they're not coming back soon". And for whatever reason, in that messy hallway, I teared up like a pregnant woman to Kodak commercials.

We bought a gun from Wal-Mart. A plastic shotgun, bandages, and a can of black spray paint. Watch out bitches.

Seeing Eamon happy makes me hopeful. Everything here is the opposite of the way it used to be the last time we were all together.

That whole southern hospitality thing....they weren't kidding. Dru and I have already been referred to as "rude". It's making me feel the overwhelming urge to drive straight up North, where it's safe.

Ha. We have 3 bands in the mental works. Our Regina Spektor cover band, Apple Paltrow. Our street band which basically consists of us singing "Hey" by the Pixies, Electric Bird Whistle. And the band that Dru wants us to take seriously (apparently I can sing. Flattered is an understatement) which is tentatively Aesthetic Cigarette Harmony.

I keep meeting amazing people. And for the first time in 2 years, my hands aren't shaking. I'm sitting outside a Starschmucks, it's chilly and windy and beautiful, cigarettes are plenty, and I'm actually alive.

Please don't let me be misunderstood.

Shocker promises

We need to stop drinking.

Not.

Tallahassee is awesome. Mostly because of Amy.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh Alabama.

Fireworks and hurricanes

56 hours.

15 stitches.

0 cigarettes.

The same questions repeated throughout the days.

Groups of people that mean nothing and need everything.

And I'm more lost then when I went in.

Quotes from tonight....

"Fuck yeah, Yeah I fuck"

"Let's go find some honeys"

"Because we're hurt people, and hurt people need to FUCK"

"We'll fuck some goth bitches. Yeah, goth bitches."

Apparently,

Andrew and I are madly in love, hence why we're going on this trip. Because we're so deeply in love with eachother.

AND,

We fuck like bunnies. That's the only reason he even comes to town. He would stay in town with me so that we could fuck like bunnies all the time, but he really hates St. Augustine. So right now we're in the middle of a long distance love affair and when we do talk we call eachother annoying pet names. e.g. Sugarlips, Shnookums, Cuddlebear.

This is the shit that the people in my former life have thought up. So now I'm just going to go with it. Except I think that a better scenario involves me getting knocked up because we never use condoms (people that are as in love as we are don't need to practice safe sex, because we're all crazy in love) and we'll travel the country and settle down in Canada when it's baby time. They have health insurance and speak some form of French.

Ha. Leda, Please laugh with me on this one....

I'm embarassed to say that I just purchased a 3 liter jug of wine. After countless hours of making fun of stephen and daniel, I am now playing the part of the cheap alcoholic hypocrite.

Andrew is here. The end.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad...

Take a sad song and make it better.

Trying.

Last night, after a few beers and 50 bucks worth of weed, I sat there in a substance abuse induced coma. Marveled at how good cigarette smoke feels as you force it into your lungs. How pretty it looks when you exhale. How fucked up it is that we're all slowly killing ourselves through our vices. The shit that kills is the only shit that makes you feel like living at all. I'm not suicidal, therapist ma'am, I'm just like everyone else.

We'll all die someday, right? So fuck suicidal thoughts. Depression. Following the rules. "Supposed tos".

Eat your vegetables? Don't talk to strangers? Respect your elders? Fuck that noise. I'm dying, and so are you and them and everyone. Why don't we just do more of what we want? Icecream before dinner. Vodka tonics. Boys that are all wrong. I suppose this is part of the whole idea behind this trip. I know what I'm "supposed to" do and exactly how to do it. I CHOOSE to do what I want, even though I'm clueless as to how to go about doing it. Hard to do something that you've never done without looking at every moment in your life and saying through clenched teeth...

"Fuck everything."

So. Glass half full shit.

1) I had an interesting conversation with the moms.

Mom: Lauren, you just need to realize that the glass is half full.
Moi: Mother, my glass is empty. Actually, there is no glass. Some asshole broke my glass, so it's a bit difficult to think of my non-existant glass being half full of anything.

2) Adam (Boss' babycakes) has learned to say uh-oh. He has also developed the talent of getting into breakable objects at the tea store. He'll look straight at me as I shake my head no and nod his little head yes while he breaks everything. Adorable? Possibly.

3) I've been put on another medication, which probably won't work, which means I'll probably be taking 3 different ones adding up to a whopping 90 or so grams of meds. Goodbye world. Goodbye focus. Hello incoherence.

I feel like there was a fourth....but my mind is gallavanting on the island of LOST among attractive actors/actresses. Where the shit is Dru? I'm hungry.

This isn't about me, but it hurts.

It's strange how everything you think you know can be changed in an instant. Every feeling you have, replaced with something new. Something shinier, maybe. Hopefully, maybe.

Surrounded by bad music and tourists in scarves and fanny packs, I can barely speak to them today. My thoughts have been temporarily lodged in four hours a night ago. Hours passed between then and now. All I think is those four. It's strange.

How one phone call can ruin a night, a week, the rest of your life. How laughter sounds a lot like choked sobs, sometimes.

One phrase. And the best day is now the worst, is now the one day you'll dread. It could be your moment of clarity, except all you figured out is that you've been tricked again. That Life, that sadistic bitch, has led you on. She has poked and prodded you and given you false hope. She's got a loaded gun to your head and a smile that could kill you first. So ironic, in a sense.

How you can be planning your dying mother's funeral one day and burying your son the next.

They say that you should live each day to its fullest. That it can disappear before you have time for it to flash before your eyes. So what happens if your life disappears before you die? If it's flashing before your eyes and you don't have control over any of it, over anything?

Blink. It's already gone.

This is depressing. But my brain and my heart are elsewhere, hours away, with the person I'm closest to and his son. 19. Dead. It only takes a second and everything you thought you knew about your life is a mushroom cloud in the distance. Is cold and stiff. Etched marble and a prayer in place of a future.

Life, you whore.

Oh the celebratory actions of leaving....which includes whiskey, ofcourse.

Tonight I keep walking into my room. Laying on the bed. Staring at my belongings. Coach purse, over priced jackets that only warm me with compliments from randoms, a hair straightener, multiple pairs of high heels, and my lovely mirror. My bed that I'm selling. My door that I wish I could keep. The things I've come to depend on for my happiness. The things that never make me happy. What a fake.

I don't want to be anxious anymore.

And I'm tired of people I care about making me feel bad for leaving. Fuck you, Tim. Mom. Nick.

I'm doing what I want. Jeezfuckwhoredamncuntshitwhiskeyballs.

nostalgia, to say the least

I'm feeling rather odd today.

Missing people and I haven't even left yet. I still have a month and I'm missing people while I'm with them. Like Tim and coffee and cheap groceries. Missing people and things that aren't even here anymore, physically or otherwise. Like Leda. Kieran. Hookah lounge. I'm missing feeling something. Everything reminds me of something reminds me of everything that doesn't exist anymore. It reminds me why I'm leaving, while simultaneously making me want to stay and do it all over again.

I may just hide out. Watch movies and sleep and hermit until go time.

36 days.

More than a year later and I'm still counting down. Some things never change.