Seven o'clock and it's light outside and I feel like that bubbling oil. Hot with anger.
I'm chewing on a pen and it's been, jesus, over ninety hours now. I like to think this has graduated from a desire to be beautiful into a desire to be self-sufficient. Like hey, look at me, I don't even need food to survive.
Maybe I'm romanticizing a bit.
He apologized last night while I was busy dreaming about apologizing to him.