Abbey Road.

And here I am again, sitting uncomfortably at my desk and typing. Getting high is more fun with a friend. Peter, thank you, I enjoyed our ride and feel compelled to announce to the world that a fine joint was rolled courtesy of your fingers. I am high and sitting here like the drug addicted freak that I am. I just told him about the sex I had with Ryan. Not thinking, I assume, I also confided to Peter that I am a slut that sleeps around. Well not really, but I might as well have. And so now the Beatles, softly strumming and singing, but with pointed direction on Abbey Road, to change the tone of my tolerance.

Thirsty. I search around my room quickly for any sort of refreshment. Empty water bottle, check. I grabbed the last warm swig and swallowed it with a hollow thud. My throat is rebounding on its abuse. An orange? Too much work, and plus I am definitely not hungry. So what then, a walk down to the nasty bathroom to use the drinking fountain outside of it? Or to the laundry room, home of the sawdust. It seriously shocked me with splinters and sparkle sized pieces of wood. In my eyes, on my chest, in my hair, everywhere. Gross, the memory of it makes my skin crawl. Regardless of that whole ordeal, the water from the sink is often colder and generally better than drinking fountain toilet water. The decision has been made, I need water. For my health, for my digestive system, and for my brain to jostle around in it's brain juices.

I am back. I am working on getting my thirst quenched, and really all I need to be doing is the five page paper that was due... TODAY. So, enough of this, you can have a fun night later, once you put in an honest effort!!!!! Show tomorrow, and now I am unsure about going at all. I am scared to see him. Why? We had sex twice, made out a few times. Not much flirting AT ALL. I freeze up and can't flirt, or be coy, or anything. I just ramble on and purposely annoy him, and he even called me out on it, and I fumbled. I was fucked up though, I blew a line, smoked bongs, and drank mad beers. So, that could be a reason. Oh man, how did I manage to get here? I think I purposely put myself in a bad place, I don't know why or if I do, but I am reasonably sure that I am crazy.