We were once kids, and now we're tired men...pouring into bars, quoting Sartre in bathroom stalls, secretly stealing glances up a woman's skirt as she climbs the stairs next to us, laughing over past bands we each fucked up, others broads we regretfully fucked, the everythings, the nothings; the lives we've lost control of, objectively taking notice as they drift into chaos.
Chaos, I'd say, is exactly that: subconscious thoughts positioning the day each and every way, unwilling to wait for the panting "consciousness" tagging along. What happened to time? Is it all coked up, racing without hindsight?
Last night, we all thought this, but no one said a goddamned word. Too scared. Too disheveled. Too tired.
We smiled in this picture because that's what you're supposed to do when getting a picture taken.
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I was really cool about my birthday this year...but now I think I'm not that cool.
I have Snow White's stepmother's syndrome: hate younger girls.
I'm staying at my parent's place right now, so I checked my old journals. I was a nice girl but if I met me in a social meeting right now I'd torture me. I had some merits, that's true...Anyway, nostalgia is such a nice feeling, specially when you're feeling tired and calmed after the drink you had by the chimney...