You're What Happens When Two Substances Collide
Current Song: "Red Right Hand" -- Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
I purchased mp3s with actual money today for the first time ever. *Note to federal law enforcement: that is not a confession or an implication that I have been involved in any crime, file-sharing-related or not.* I bought this song and "Carry On My Wayward Son" by Kansas because I dredged them up today from the bowels of my memory and I needed them so much I paid for them. Actually I spent most of the day mired in this prog rock thing where I couldn't stop listening to Kansas and Journey and Genesis and all that.
I was reasonably happy all day until I talked to you. I can't keep talking to you, looking at you, wondering where you are, thinking about you at all. I'm so unhappy all the time and it just surrounds you. I know you are going to leave, but please, for my sake, just go. Please just go, please just go.
I have big plans for fun this week: Bar Trivia on Wednesday and then the Vampire Weekend concert on Thursday. I'm looking forward to those because Friday I'll be home all night crying and shaking and then Saturday I'll be giving that presentation. It makes me sick to think about it. I've been having chest pains since Saturday about it. I'm all off-kilter, my balances are running high or low or hot or cold, which makes me extra-sensitive to even the least worst thing that you say. Public speaking effectively ruined my life last summer when I took that class and then lost my shit to such a degree that I had to be medicated and narrowly missed being removed from school for my own health. I really, really need to get away from things like this presentation that I can't avoid. People who don't understand have been telling me laughably ridiculous things like "picture everyone in their underwear" or "what's the worst that could happen?" Frankly, the worst that could happen is that I could actually die from a serious panic attack. So fuck you, everyone except Charlie who is the only one who said anything at all helpful. I don't trust that there are tranquilizers in the world that are strong enough to make this a good decision. Still, it's already on my resume so now I have to go.
Oh god, my heart is doing that thing again.
I purchased mp3s with actual money today for the first time ever. *Note to federal law enforcement: that is not a confession or an implication that I have been involved in any crime, file-sharing-related or not.* I bought this song and "Carry On My Wayward Son" by Kansas because I dredged them up today from the bowels of my memory and I needed them so much I paid for them. Actually I spent most of the day mired in this prog rock thing where I couldn't stop listening to Kansas and Journey and Genesis and all that.
I was reasonably happy all day until I talked to you. I can't keep talking to you, looking at you, wondering where you are, thinking about you at all. I'm so unhappy all the time and it just surrounds you. I know you are going to leave, but please, for my sake, just go. Please just go, please just go.
I have big plans for fun this week: Bar Trivia on Wednesday and then the Vampire Weekend concert on Thursday. I'm looking forward to those because Friday I'll be home all night crying and shaking and then Saturday I'll be giving that presentation. It makes me sick to think about it. I've been having chest pains since Saturday about it. I'm all off-kilter, my balances are running high or low or hot or cold, which makes me extra-sensitive to even the least worst thing that you say. Public speaking effectively ruined my life last summer when I took that class and then lost my shit to such a degree that I had to be medicated and narrowly missed being removed from school for my own health. I really, really need to get away from things like this presentation that I can't avoid. People who don't understand have been telling me laughably ridiculous things like "picture everyone in their underwear" or "what's the worst that could happen?" Frankly, the worst that could happen is that I could actually die from a serious panic attack. So fuck you, everyone except Charlie who is the only one who said anything at all helpful. I don't trust that there are tranquilizers in the world that are strong enough to make this a good decision. Still, it's already on my resume so now I have to go.
Oh god, my heart is doing that thing again.
spit at you by Nil at 12:18 AM
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