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Rarararararara. I'm kind of drunk. Whut-ever.

Coming home is so funny. Its like a life that isn't mine anymore, but I still remember what it was like. I'm so far away now, and yet, close as a different person.

I don't really know if I want a reply. Probably not. Yuck, that'd probably be really horrible. Or would it. Would I even care? Probably. But not enough, thats for sure. Thank god.

I'm not very nice. And thats fine. Very few have the opportunity to know me, to know what I actually am. Or what has become of me at least.

I'm at odds with what I should do. Carry on? Or accept that the past is never through with me and I'll always be that girl with either too much to say, or just enough to be mysterious to the general eye.

I love Zoran. I love him so much. I really don't know what I'd be otherwise. All over the place probably. Instead of leaning against something solid and warm. This solid warm thingy that picks me right up and sets me back on my feet with ease. There is nothing else in the world that competes with a feeling like that.

I'm going to go watch Grey Gardens.

I miss Sir Paul James Ebbs.