kore

it punches through me, this horrible beautiful textiture. i'm asked a question, i cant remember what and it hangs in the air like smoke. i go to work and stand on my feet and it hurts but i;ve never felt so good at something, even if i'm not that good. because it's a simple skill, a simple thing that i can do with my hands and i can be good at. and i can make money and it belongs to me. freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedom. i have to run away. you know, i live with my parents. i didnt for 2 years and then i had to move home due to extenuating circumstances .... and now i have to hear the walls shake whenever my dad screams. i just need to get away from here with my sister, and that;s what the money is for.

i feel beautiful and a little broken but i think it's the texture that matters. i think its the little details. and i dont care about being wrong or looking stupid anymore. i bled through my fuckin pants at work yesterday ... harder to be a cashier on yr fuckin period ... but no one saw i dont think and whatever, it just makes life interesting.

there is so much going on right now and i've got my guitar pressed up against me because she's the only one who knows how to hold me just right.

i work tonight and i am very much looking forward to that.