mad mad yag’nam # 910

everything is perfectly surreal @ the moment & I feel like i have no priorities. Or maybe I had them but I lost them. I feel like there is no need for me to put in any effort, to strive  for anything. @ the end of the day, I’m still here. I’m still fckng human. It’s weird. I don’t really care about anything anymore. & the things I do care about are too irrlvnt & petty to mention. Do you know what I care about? I care about dirt in my nails, the backflap of my bookbag being open while i’m wlkng dwn the strt. Not when i’ll eat again, or sleep again, or whtvr.

i forgot how to care about things. I have no motivation. I’ll get back to you when I can concoct a theory as to why I lack motivation. Or when I care to.

rudgess fr’sco #9

1. I touched your pinga, once
2. you (changed) clothes on the upper east side of manhattan, in a phone booth last year.
3. you do the best “cotter answering machine” impersonation
   
   
   i lover her more than drugs &
   she lovers me more than penis
   i coud prolly die happerful now
   
   the phone booth thing was cos i had an interview or something at express & i dress like a hobo & i decided i wanted to cambiar mis ropas like right then and there & she hid my junk from passerbys & in return i let her touch it. we’ve been the nonsexual best friends ever since