Tuesday, June 19, 2012


"I'm going to get wicked drunk, listen to 'The Cure,' and just generally be a miserable bastard for a bit. Because I'm entitled to be. And I intend to take full advantage of that. Maybe it's therapeutic. Maybe it's not. Maybe go fuck yourself.

See? I'm allowed to say things like that right now, just because I'm sad. And everyone else will understand.

But then, after I've gotten that out of my system, I'll be okay. Life goes on. 'C'est la vie' and all of that happy horseshit.

Now pass me the whiskey and cigarettes. I feel the need to do myself some damage."

[Even a really sucky breakup comes to this. Well, that, or crying into my pillow while I listen to 'The Smiths.' 1980's alternative rock goes well with emotional turmoil...]