they do not know you anymore
it hits you before you even enter.
reminds me of my old room at the crawford ghetto. i hung a huge pink silk piece of material over the window that i bought from a fabric store in little italy, it was essentially 80’s bridesmaid print, embossed flowers scattered all over it. had the exact same material for a bridesmaid dress but only in purple when i was 8. anyway it cast a soothing rose tint to the many hangovers spent in those coordinates.
on a bad day it makes you feel crazy.
modesty is for ugly people. not my quote.
meet the rat’s nest.
red things in the red room confuse the camera. that bear goes way back.
draw the curtains, tidy your shit (not the bed), and you quickly feel sane again.
how’d this redundancy get overlooked?
i have to deal with my gym now, the fucking gym i stupidly joined. it’s so not funny that it’s funny.
and what the hell to be for halloween? might wear my victorian scullery maid costume or one of my ridiculous dresses. yes, i’ll go as a wizard.