ups downs and all-arounds

the ups are mostly about ten minutes long and consist of static silence, drowning out the world with the sound of crisp tobacco burning.

All them backstabbing foes
Standing in my way, always stepping on my toes
Stealing my style even wearing my clothes
Fuck all them haters, fuck all them hoes

work smarter, not harder. I can't force this issue because it will only push it further away. i need to entice, make a comfortable spot for the plan to slip into and let the chips fall where they're going to

i've got no cash - no product - no cards up my sleeve. All I've got is wit and bluff and the balls to do whatever I have to, to make it...

SN, you have always been one of my guiding influences. Thankyou for helping me wake up to myself.

this is really nowhere near as easy as you might think.

what's in the money?

a lie and a long sleep, a broken promise.... soundbites from my day, rife with hostility - shaped against the outside world

this is not what was supposed to happen.

Game over.

This will be the last self-involved wank for a while; I promise.

But I've always tried to be a good person. Do the right thing. Sure, i might be an asshole, but I've never been a bad person.

But I am fucked, time and time again by the bad people. And I can tell myself 'yeah, don't worry, they'll get theirs'

but I don't have the patience to wait anymore.

I try not to hate people - But they make it so fucking hard.

I've put my friends through stress and struggle, financial debt because further down the chain, some shitheel crackhead has fucked me. And I could otherwise have covered that trouble on my own - Except that I have blown all my profits on taxis, nice clothes, drugs, drugs, MORE DRUGS and only about a third of that has been for myself

because i have so little self fucking confidence that I jsut throw money and pills at people just so that they'll pay attention to me long enough to actually take an interest in something Ia ctually have to say

they don't, they never do. They just get caught up in the whirlwind - basslines, strobelights, acid trips and nitrous comas - And I still go home, empty handed, no money, nobody to talk to.

I'd talk to my real friends, but I owe them all money.

Not anymore. This is going to stop now. I'm done. being the good guy hasn't worked. I have to be the bad guy. I'm going to go and get my money, and then it's over.

XX = it's the doublecrosser chromosone

I'm through wasting my life.

raw wires

It's a strange, sad kind of social convulsion - Like a cramp in my leg every time I see her, I stumble mid-step and try and shake it off. But, wordless - she smiles, and I find myself silently thinking about how there's no price I wouldn't pay to keep that smile there forever.


She's a hypnotist collector, You are a walking antique...

i'm glad she's leaving

and i think i'll follow her

60mg temazepam
20mg diazepam
5mg lorazepam

several glasses of cheap red wine, and Jim Croce playing on repeat.

i hope this time

i won't remember the last sunrise

Aquella.

i wish i could like, pet an octopus :/ but theyre like ohai imma live in the depths of the ocean bc im stuuupidd

so i buyed an octopus

BEQAUSE I R BOXXY, SEEEEEEEE?

"You're fuck damn right that was the best party ever!"

I love everything.