I just turned on Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in my Hand. I used to listen to this when I drove for Domino's--on repeat. I loved it, even though it was kind of melancholy contentment. I have a bus ticket to go back to Indiana tomorrow, but my boyfriend and friends want me to come back to Cochran. I wonder how many people would read this if I were dead. I've thought about being dead a lot lately. I've definitely begged for it. My friend's roommates think what goes around comes around, and it makes me wonder if I've done a lot of fucked up shit to deserve what's come to me, or if it was just supposed to happen or if free will is even a thing. Who the fuck knows?
I was going to finish writing my book in Indiana, but my Freewrite typewriter is broken, I think. Sad. I already have 60k words, but I thought it would be nice to finish it where I started. The reason I'm going back is because I got in a huge fight with my parents because I'm a slob who doesn't like to be yelled at like they're a piece of shit, even if I am a piece of shit. It's all relative, really.
Maybe people will read this shit if I don't make it too long? I don't fucking know.
This is so goddamn stupid. I'm too old for this shit.
No comments:
Post a Comment