I did nothing today. At least I made money doing nothing. I also bought shoes that I shouldn't have bought. I buy too much for myself this time of year. I'm so selfish sometimes. And too opportunistic. I'm too damn opportunistic this time of year. And the rest of the year too, actually.
Once today. I had a salad at lunch and was freaking out about it all day. Weird.
No one has hurt me more than you.
Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born? I self-deprecate and push and pull my being to a certain contortion and paint my face and aim to portray this mannerism. Does this seem ridiculous that I would waste time to appear this way and to forget to recognize the meaning and the miracle of my existence? I am not always so vigilant of my own principles and I get swept with the trash blown by the wind along the street. Serves me.
Disneyland in a few days!
"Ex-Factor" by Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. "Song of Myself", Walt Whitman.
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