i am smoking my last cigarette.
this depresses me.
what also depresses me is my whole life.
my sister is moving to madison in three weeks and i am scared shitless
because she makes me so happy
and she will still make me happy when she is gone
and i will write her letters
and skype with her when i’ve had a lot of beers
and text her when she’s drunk and laugh at how horrible her conversation skills are
and still love her so much, from 328 miles away.
i have finished my cigarette, and my tears are frozen to my face.
because it is cold in minnesota
but it’s cold in Madison, too.
it’s almost three in the morning and i’m thinking about everything i ate today:
a twix bar and 6 french fries.
i am sorry that your dog is dead,
i am sorry your plant is dead,
i am sorry i am dead.
i dont really feel sorry about anything i do because
i dont make lasting relationships with people
because it’s too weird to do that.
i would rather just eat some drugs and lay in my room
looking at the stars on my ceiling and pretending i am chillin in space.
or i would rather watch Free Willy
and eat tangerines.
or i would rather read sonnets out loud while i’m standing in the kitchen
without pants on.
i would rather do a lot of sad small things
than be happy.