palmerpink

So Parker sent me a super concerned email last night. Apparently I've been really letting him down lately. Can't say I'm too surprised. Let's face it: I've been anxious/depressed for at least 2 or 3 weeks now. I'm not even sure why. Maybe because it's February. Maybe it's those goddamnedfuckingshitlicking loans. Maybe it's having to look for another job. Again. Maybe it's feeling like a useless sack of-- {breathe, breathe...} I can't say I'm too happy with myself either. I've been giving over to 'self-will' so much lately, it's shameful. Naturally, I'm feeling more than a little guilty and stupid and weak, but--as usual--I'm much too prideful to dare admit it or ask for help. It's a fun position to wedge oneself into, I can tell ya that. One of the tricky, cruel things about self-will is how self ish it is. (Haha! See how clever that was!? Oy.) I tend to hurt the people I love and who love me. Like Par...

Or a not-quite-full-force-fagmunch. However, he is dead either way. In his place stands a newer, increasingly faggy me. Woe unto the world for the loss. See, there's this sweater I've been seeing at work (American Eagle Outfitters). I really really really fucking want it. Check it out, babes *. Yes, it's $149.50. But I want it. And imma gonna get it.