late nights and loud fights
it's all just a blur

5:28 p.m. | 2006-01-04
Next Year Things Are Gonna Change (Just Like They Did This Year)

I saw a creative idea of taking the first sentence from the first entry of each month written this year and putting them all together. I usually hate these things, so I did it for myself and then realized how poetic it was and how much it was my year. Sort of like one of those corny tv "year in review" things with slow frames from my life being played along with some sad "best times of our lives" sort of song. Pick up your copy of Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie and put on "The New Year." It'll all make sense.

It's a frustrating moment when you fall so far into self deprecation that you can't figure out why you're there in the first place.

I can understand being nice; I can understand being caring; I can even understand being giving.

I've had this image in my head forever.

The past few days have been entertaining in the least.

Thirty-two days.

I put lemon wedges on my drinks.

I don't want it to be 8:30 am and me be groggy from sleeping in someone else's bed all night.

Death always puts a damper on life.

Walking around on good intentions is knowing there's glass on the ground and closing your eyes and stepping forward with bare feet.

I feel like failure in these cold days.

I haven't been anywhere near caring in months.

With sweaters that lightly peek out of fitted coats and matching scarves and shoes that click when you walk there's no more time than now that I'd rather be somewhere else.

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