[I'm irritable.]
I've been lashing out and voicing my opinion and speaking every thought that pops into my head.
[Which isn't really anything worthwhile.]
I listened to myself for a few minutes and got scared.
I've been laughing when nothing is funny, and not in the way where everything is funny, in the way that I'll just instincitvely laugh constantly, and not realize I'm doing it.
Meaning it doesn't even register when something actually is funny.
[Everything is a blur.]
Conversations are nothing; I remember people, places, things, actions, but no words.
[That way where sometimes people go on autopilot when driving home from work, the way where you obviously got from point a to point b but have no recollection of getting there.]
I spend more money on culture than shoes.
[I need new shoes.
And it's crap culture.]
That mish-mash of america that isn't original.
I feel like a cokehead without the coke.
[Which is pretty much the one thing that makes being a cokehead fun.]
I don't need to eat.
[And I still gain weight.]
I hang out with people that I consider friends but not best friends.
[Meaning I have no close friends.]
My love life is a blur of idiotic giggles and feelings and hormones and momentary glances and memories and meaninglessness.
[Not in the cute middle school way either.
In the overly adult way.
In the fake way.]
Middle school was the best.
Everything was so extreme all the time and we were growing and confused and trendy and smart.
We were our real selves all the time and every day was perfect.
[Now we're just boring.]
Mindless chatter and overused phrases.
This is just a phase.
[It's always just a phase.]
There goes my relentless optimism again.
My hopelessly romantic, overly ideological view on everything.
My naively, lovely, desperately, ferociously, needy, clingy, wonderfully way of thinking.
[I just need sleep.]
I wanna go somewhere.

I promise to put some art up sometime soon.
[That's a lie.
My promises don't mean much.]
It's practically summer and I have a years worth of required school art to share with the world.

Happiness and bullshit,
Lovey