So things have changed a lot these past few months. I worked. I worked a lot. Like, fifty-six hours a week, every week, all summer. It was exhausting.
I have an apartment. Matty and I are sharing rent on a two bedroom apartment in Evansville. It's nifty. As long as we don't kill each other. And I'm the third wheel, which sucks, and I hate it, but whatever.
It'll be my birthday next week, which is... exciting. I guess. I'll be twenty-one, which is the age that people seem to look forward to. I guess I'm going out drinking with Tara, but I am absolutely terrified that I might get addicted to this, just like I get addicted to every thing that I try. Like television. Which is weird, but I am so addicted to television now that it's sad. I just bought the fifth season of Grey's Anatomy, and I'm super excited and yay! ... But drinking is not something that I want to get hooked on. Blech.
I miss Tamora. It's been getting worse since my hours have dropped and I'm not working all of the time and I have all of this time to just... think. And Matty's getting tired of me being around all of the time, and it makes me feel shitty, and things make me feel shitty, and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. Besides the fact that I am still writing Notches and it will be amazing. And I will be famous. And things will get better, but right now they're iffy, and I still feel hurt when I think of Tamora, and I can't help that.
I had some meaningless sex last week. Just random sex with a random guy, and it didn't make me feel much better. And Matty and James were all, "OH EM GEE, how was it?" And I don't know what to say. I feel strange.
And no one likes me but gay guys, and I'm tired of vagina jokes.
... so yeah. The end.
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