dear would you rather diary,
i woke up screaming with vomit in my throat, i ate pizza and fell asleep. up now for shore. four in the mourning lights in my face. that shit was nasty and made me sick. now the only thing that sounds good is gravy, but i ain't making any- i am too lazy. it is too early or it is too late, either way you look at it- i still ain't making shit. but you can. i don't want to be up. but i am. i'll be back down shortly- and return to the place i love that is orderly- where all the kind people await and nobody stops around with hate.
