hyenahell

oy vey.

whatta life... whatta life...
my "significant other", with whom relations have been shaky at best and non-existant at worst, has told me he doesn't want my shit in his apartment, so who knows where it (or me, for that matter) is gonna go. i gotta be packed and out by saturday morn.
my ex is dating this flaky-fake "hippy" chick and wants me to be a third wheel for good ol' cinco de mayo tonite. mind you, i would like to set this little girl on fire in my kindest of moods... and the prospect of watching she and my ex be lovey-dovey makes me more nauseous than 12 shots of bad tequilla.
what i would like, really, is to be rid of the lot of them, these damned circles of folk who have woven themselves into my life... pack up without saying goodbye, burn everything i can't fit into my backpack, and disappear without a trace.
of course if i had the balls to do that, i wouldn't be stuck here in this mess at all... i'd be, oh say, in italy, sitting by the spanish steps in the roman evening, slowly drinking my weight in wine... and watching all the italian girls in their tight jeans and stilleto pumps...
ah. to dream.