[I can't wait for you... I can't wait for you... ]
[Everything has changed.]
Express mailed signing docs to the states- trying to close on my house in North Dakota.
Sold the hooptie, but a wobbly ball joint is keeping it in my possession, part's on order... not as easy as I'd like it. Not enough hours in the day.
[I've worked for so long, just to see you mess around. What you've done. I want back the years that you took when I was young, when I was young. But it's done.]
[Oh take it all away. I don't feel it anymore.]
Credit fraud again and again and again. Never get robbed. Hours on the phone with banks. Every time a different person, so the story just gets longer and longer.
It's a three day weekend- I'm going out of town. Of course, it's the law. My law.
Still waiting on my taxes. Should be done this week. Overseas you have automatically until 15 June to file. I think tax assistance is really tax-waste-your-time- and-create-a-mountain-out-of-a-molehill-assistance.
Still cannot run. It is killing me. My foot. Damn-it! It's just not normal.
[I was fucked up when you needed me the most. ]
[Trying to starve myself to death.]
But it could be worse. Like my mom says, one day at a time, one step at a time.
[You can run. I don't think you can hide.]
[You are not what you were when you were young.]
At least I have William Fitzsimmons to calm me. And my nailpolish matches my car. And I have a shrine. And I can draw.
[I'm a slave to my indifference. I'm comfortable with chains now.]
Going to bed. It's 19:52.
[Every day just passes now. I can count them all.]
[Just another piece of pleasure. At least before I'm dead.]