I'm drunk on bad pop music and I'm reading my very old entries, probably not a very good combination.

Things from lightyears ago that I barely remember writing. I miss being almost happy but stupid, I appear to have traded it in for being slightly wiser but ultimately unsatisfied.

The past has a weird flavour, stale but intense, it's easier to take than the present.

The present makes me dizzy with unhappiness, soon I'll be throwing up sentiments, I just know it.

I lurrrrvvveeesss you, don'tchou pliz don't, leeeaaave meh

There's no earthly way of knowing
which direction we are going.
There's no knowing where we're rowing
or which way the river's flowing.
Is it raining? Is it snowing?
Is a hur-ra-cane-a blowing?
Not a speck of light is showing.
So the danger must be growing.
Are the fires of hell a-glowing?
Is the grisly reaper mowing?!
Yes! The danger must be growing!
For the rowers keep on rowing!
And they're certainly not showing!
Any signs that they are slowing!!!"

I have no idea why that fits in with present emotions so well, it just does.

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