index | archives | notes Sunday, Dec. 18, 2005 12:21 a.m. << [ Sorta ] >> My hair smells like his house and the cigarettes he was smoking, and since there's no way to keep the way people smell bottled up forever, I did the next best thing. I cut off a lock of my hair and put it in a plastic bag. It doesn't smell like him anymore, but I can pretend. Honestly, I don't even care that it borders obsession. I'm ingesting alcohol and I am not entirely sure why. Do I want to be this way? Am I giving myself excuses to break down? Maybe I can only be happy when I'm unhappy, when I'm addicted to something. Blah blah blah. I'm still waiting for those flowers from a week ago to wilt. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org