There’s another party at my house tonight. Just fucking kill me. I die. I die. I die. I shatter.
All I want is to knit a scarf, play Zelda, and drink my whiskey in peace. I don’t care how lame that sounds, I need space. I don’t want to hear taking back sunday sing alongs when I’m trying to have one night to myself to relax. I work all damn week. Just go out to a bar.
Also: Why ask me what I’m doing tonight and then ignore me when I say I want to get out of my house, that’s fucking lame. I feel stuck as hell. I’m tired of thinking we might maybe hang out and then you disappearing. Just don’t bother me at all if you’re not going to take me seriously. It’s bullshit.
This post is sounding a lot more angry than I actually am, I think. I’m really just laying in bed listening to the get up kids with my cat and making a frowny face. Much less dramatic.
