Here is where I come when I want to write what I do not want to be read with the hope it might...but it wont.

So I have a stalker... not as much fun as I thought it would be, unrequitted love is a disturbing thing... not used to being on the other side of it.

Lost lost lost...job, car, clean driving record.

DA...how I hate thee...how I wish I could delete thee...but alas for some odd reason you don't let people just delete their accounts so here I find myself on this sleep deprived rant at 7 in the morning.

Opheliac am I.

Lost lost lost... love, purity, piety.

Vodka...how I love thee, so thick and cold, you never let me down... the burn from you in my chest is much like something I once felt long ago...long ago and far away in a distant galaxy called...three months ago?

Was it three months? More or less, why do I keep letting losers take control of my feelings while denying the ones who would work for it...

Stalker?

Lost lost lost...my train of thought, my bong, my keys?

Church? Why would I find myself there... oh yeah I remember now...boredom. Silly mormons...good looking though.

Marriage? no. Children? no. Age? 23...or was it 32...hard to remember now.

Lost lost lost...my reasoning...