…. What?

I don’t even know. Just like, coasting. 

Here are some drafts from my phone and voice recorder. Just for kicks. 

“if i wanted to be sober, i wouldn’t have gotten drunk!”

sometimes i think the only reason people even go out instead of staying in is just to be able to say they went. 

TODAY I TOLD A COWORKER THAT HER CROCK POT PIZZA LASAGNA SOUNDED LIKE THE MOST LUSH, AMERICAN SOUNDING FOOD…. WHILE I WAS PRACTICALLY BATHING IN CHEETO DUST. 

watching lotro streams at work cuz i got the withdrawals

*WATCHING LOTRO STREAM*

“oh, yeah i’m here and it’s – why is that cat on fire?”

there was a cat on fire. but he was just running along just fine.

i want a fire cat.

i think it’s been at least a week since i last purged. Suck it, bulimia. 

Here’s a drunk poem:

punishment for eating

for existing

in general

now i’ve switched to crosses

? to disappear? 

punish the fat

Maybe

desecration 

rejection of self

….

Ok next:

For some reason Iike to talk about how I hate organized religion when I’m drunk. 

dear self: stop talking about theology while impaired. 

My nightmares can be pretty brutal: i had a dream i was a famous lead vocals/guitarist in a cool metal band with matt and off’d myself onstage during a cover of SWEET CHILD O’ MINE. 

I’m late for work *aaaannnnddddd post*

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