Try To Run But It Follows You Up A Hill

Current Song: "Cymbal Rush" -- Thom Yorke

I should have gone to bed hours ago. I need to wake up at 6:30 to learn Accounting. Oh, this semester is going to kill me.

I've been plagued with serious aches and pains for the last two days or so and I don't love it.

It occurred to me quite recently that often when I talk to people I think that we are having a conversation that is dripping with subtext, the same subtext, and that both of us know the exact weight and importance of our statements, and I am replying in ways which make a lot of sense if you know the underlying map of the whole relationship as it has played out in my head. And this, it turns out, is crazy. And the more I think about the alcohol-soaked fight we had the other night, the more it seems like A) we'd both had a lot to drink, and B) what you said indicated that you completely misunderstood what I said, and C) what you said and what I thought you said were maybe not the same thing. So I guess you're probably off the hook on that one. On the other hand, I can't guarantee that we weren't talking about the same thing, in which case you are an unbelievable prick.