i used to think people who appeared cheerful were stupid, as i had decided life was meaningless, boring, repetitive, awful, i don't want to make it worthwhile. i don't want to get better, there's nothing wrong with being sad and bitter and toxic.

i hate going to work, i hate waking up, i called it "realist pessimism." to be anything other then miserable was ignorance, but that was my ignorance.

today i got off work a little early, i found a rose in the parking lot, i pressed it in a book, i had never done that before.

i started breathing slower, reading slower, i like the idle time. i've started going outside everyday, and i like the colour green.

i have plants i tend to now, i listen to CD's as i water them, i've started eating cooked meals now, and i still dance with no radio on, but i dance better now.

i keep my room clean because cleanliness is godliness, i've been taking better care of myself. i still get drunk all the time and i love the colour green, not to cope but to enjoy on the porch at 11pm with my friends and a fire. sorry "love" i now enjoy the delusion of existence in this country.

things aren't so good but i'll make them be, things aren't so bad but i made them be. i didn't get better because i wanted to be healthier or happier because i didn't "get better" the emotions are still there, lingering like our smokes last summer.

every time i smile i feel stupid, laughing like the fat kid that doesn't know they're being bullied, and every time i cry i feel stupid too, sobbing like the privileged white girl who wants to die. it all feels stupid, the way i've tried to articulate this, make sense of this, the way i try to ridicule this.