end stop

my short story is fragmenting, and I do not like writing it.

I want to live in an apartment.
I want to live in a house with open space. call the laundry room the mudroom. have a balcony. live on top of the roof in winter for a day, for as long as it takes to count the roof tiles and tire of having no walls.

will grayson, will grayson is out.

this song has the most mediocre metaphor repeated over and over. I still like it.

I was called a bitch today--I've never regretted, and I still don't, what I've said before someone called me that or the equivalent. usually, in my view, what I said would be something they would have said had to someone else in the same situation if they had more of a spine.

or maybe I am just a virulent fucker, ha ha.

tea tea tea tea. why do they only serve cold drinks here? they're either diet or filled with a disgusting amount of sugar.