I thought I’d get to kiss him forever.
This is all my fault.
I’m too empty to write.
I should eat something.
There is a literal hole in my chest.
Getting drunk won’t fill it.
One shot of Nyquil and off to bed.
On autopilot. Set reminders to pee.
He’ll come home eventually.
I should Facebook message his sister.
I can’t wait to tell him I might move to San Francisco.
I’m relieved I don’t have to like his douchey friend anymore.
Leave me alone, I’m binge-watching situational comedies.
I don’t want to talk about it.
Why doesn’t anybody want to talk about it?
Wait, COBRA ran out?
Sleeping feels good.
Sunlight is mocking me.
Doing laundry is under-rated.
Wuh, Nyquil bottle empty?
Why is everyone is so loud.
At least my therapist gets me.
Pharmaceuticals are minimal adjustments for modern day living.
Fine, I’ll eat. But only flat foods and coffee. It all must be flat. It all must be pizza.
I’m dying to get out of here.
I’m dying my hair.
He’d hate these shoes.
I’m buying these shoes.
I’m looking for a pied-a-tierre.
I won’t eat there ever again.
Everything is lame.
This song is amazing.
This other guy is cute. Like real cute.
Let’s meet for drinks at the Ace.
Actually I need to focus on myself.
Why isn’t anyone focusing on me?!
Going to Bali is a good idea.
My credit card bill is fiction.
I want to kiss this new person forever.
I should write this all down.