I hate myself, I hate timing and I hate my feelings. I wish I could pry them loose with a butterknife.

Life is weird and I love it.

 My insides are made of firecrackers 

I am producing heat, flames, and often smoke, according to the dictionary that means I am, in fact, on fire.

Please see: I'm on Fire by Bruce Springsteen

Lingering in sentiment and a bottle of wine. Listening to Women and other music that reminds me of things that happened one time.

Shall you?

I simply couldn't, I simply couldn't.

Please see Widowspeak

not sleeping

listening to Make It Known by Foxygen, while pretending to smoke a cigarette. Also contemplating my terrible inner self. I may be truly disturbed, too early to tell.

Pretty.

But I still want to touch it.

I've got an itch, that I cannot seem to scratch.

Ruined!

I want to hide inside and/or have a nervous breakdown. I also want to listen to Mazzy Star.

listening to cowboy junkies during a thunderstorm in the dark, just lovely.

This is all starting to look like well tread material.

This winter was all mind games and cold cold cold. I just need to defrost into the charming neurotic I used to be.

I also looked up the French word for heavy petting, pelotage.

listening to: Radio - Lana Del Rey 

I am not positive what the normal rate is for existential crisises in a human life, but I would guess I am currently above par? 

Rowdy Music for Unthawing from Winter:
Untutored Youth - The Hives
Abra Cadaver - The Hives
Charmer - Kings of Leon
I'm Shakin' - Jack White

* Friends *

Listening to Our Bovine Public by The Cribs