i am having trouble believing a word i am telling myself.
i often times fear the worst. sometimes worse than that. i'm not sure if this is fear, or if so if it is fear of the worst or fear of fearing. fear of nothing maybe. fear of not knowing. not fear at all, something different. but what?
i need answers. and no one has them for me so i won't bother asking.
and i can't trust signs because fortune cookies have lied to me too many times. accurate in every detail but the outcome.
and i want to spend the rest of my life around nice, old people. and hear their stories. i've never walked to school in eight feet of snow or piped in sunshine or worked thirty-two hours a day, so i'd like to hear from someone who has.
but not mean, old people. one either shook his fist at me or flipped me off, today in traffic. i couldn't tell which, but figure that the former is the old-man equivalent of the latter anyway.
some people think andy warhol was a genius. i think he was a prick. i'm going to say here that i don't know where that came from.., but i do. i've been to his museum though. the one in pittsburgh at least.
i agree that money probably is nothing. i wish i believed it at this point.
i feel like i should be done, like i should have at least weeks ago. and i don't mean this, or school, or..
put me to bed.." -p.
but i still can't focus on anything..