homicidegirl

Blah blah and more blah. Quiet apartment, same as it always is at night. Roomie has to get up at 5 am, Steph is at home, and the Josh has gone back to his house. I am solitary Candy. I am an island. Here, cross-legged on the floor, I am the only person whose existence I can prove. I should play Zelda for a bit, maybe. I have to find a job. Soon. I have no money, and other people's cigarettes just aren't as good as ones you bought yourself. I am eating Little Debbie snack cakes, and they are kinda yucky. Never cared much for them. Yeah, need a job. Jobs buy food. Good food that Candy likes. Pizzas and Caesar salads and peach fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt and Taco Bell Gorditas. Sounds like a plan. Paychecks keep Candy stocked with things like new Chucks and books and chapstick and clothes. Oh, dyed my hair dark reddish burgundy, by the way. Photo evidence soon.