That ‘please be mine’ shit is a bit irritating. Ya know those pretty pictures with words on them? I like them. Love them. I like being able to relate to them, and I stretch their meanings sometimes so that they fit with my life. But ‘please be mine’? That just turns my stomach. And I don’t really know why.
Perhaps I should not get so drunk. But I live for telling hangover stories to my best friend, relaying the details of the previous nights misdemeanours. It makes her laugh and it makes me feel a bit better about my odd behaviour. Though why I decided to lie on the ground on the bridge is something I’ll never understand. Or get over. I am a weird person.
Watched Garden State again. It makes me happy.
Why do I even want this? I don’t. Although, you are the perfect kind of dickhead. And I do like dickheads. And I don’t know what I want. I have an awfully vivid imagination. A wild imagination. A seriously detailed imagination actually. My whole summer is mapped out in my head and I kind of like it. I see green and cycling and fairy cakes. Join me, innit. In it.
Art exam in the morning. Bit of a cop out. I literally did nothing all weekend. Don’t worry though, the Gods will punish me. Or maybe my lack of preparation will punish me. Or kill me. I don’t know. Basically, I’m fucked.
Off to do some scribbling. x