(no subject)

Friday. I don't want to go bar-hopping with S tonight. Or I do, and I don't. I do want to get drunk completely drunk up to that state of drunkenness where you start poking at your cheeks and pinching the tip of your nose because you're sure they're all numb and then they really are and there's a whuzzing sound in your ears and the ego sinks and drowns in the alcohol without a life-boat in sight (I can't remember the last time I drank anything at all beyond a single beer or so, it's been ages). I don't want to leave my bed, or my apartment, or think of what I should wear, or put on make-up, or socialize, or get drunk in a pleasant civilized manner, or have a hang-over tomorrow when I so desperately need to be at work tomorrow. To sum up, there are no little happy-elves jumping up and down behind my eyes saying, ooh, bar-hopping with S. There should be.

Confessionalities. 1: Easy when it's controlled, limited, and freely dishonest. 2: How far in do you need to go to make it worth it. I'm pretty much just making notes for myself here, usually I make notes on scraps of paper but those I always lose.

yeah.

I need to get a computer of my own again so I can read some fic, man. All important school books and no trashy tv & mpreg makes Leea a dull dull dull dull dull dull, you get the point, girl.