Somethings happening inside this corporate shell. An artist cries and a slut is begging to hear ‘I love you too’. Ok I needed to get that out but seriously food cravings at 9:45pm bring out the be(a)st in me.
At 30-1 there’s no more reflecting on the shoulda coulda woulda. It’s about the here, the now and who cares. Why take it seriously when there’s a Body Jam class at 5:30pm? I make no sense but what the hell…spring is around the corner and I don’t have a single question to ask.
People in their 20’s say: Oh I’m so busy. I say: wake up fuckers, coffee with the ‘crew’ is a leasure activity. You play your games, sometimes literally but that’s all it is…a game. By the time you reach 30 you’ve mastered the illusion of winning and move forward, preferring the taste of blood. Ok dramatic but whatever, there’s everything to prove.
I kiss the man who may be my future but you know what; I really liked his answer: let’s see what a friendship can bring. Perfect, if you ask me. There’s a commitment and freedom and anything can change. Jesus I feel like Carrie from Sex and the City…who’s coming with me to the premiere?
The ex’s are further away than they’ve ever been. Like a plastic cup drifting further from shore…they are the dream that couldn’t be. I’m fine with that as I now drink from wine goblets. I’ve grown and I’m not forgotten. It’s liberating to pinch my chub. I like my chub. I like being chubby because I think skinny jeans are fucking retarded.
It’s five to ten and my wontons are gone. I’m satified that I survived yet another day. A day like no other, but a day like the rest. 5:30pm will come tomorrow much sooner than I’m predicting. Everything in between, from now until then will be nothing but dust in a clogged up dust buster.