My life is an amateur Beatles compilation, and my limewire is not working. Fuck you, UMD. Hate and love, love and longing, trips to the liquor store and Camels Infused. Apathy, hurt. Last night I was drunk, the smooth Soco criminal stealing away my better judgement. My phone falls off my loft bed ten times a week, and I made sixteen cents in pennies and dimes picked off of my floor. I am reading Othello, and really getting into it. Catharsis. Iago as the pure evil of self-service. Politician. I need to charge my damn iPod. Damn, damnations. I wish I was obliterated. Life is so simple under the influence. A prime focus in a sea of foci. Sneaky, sneaky, says the girl wearing new eyeliner! I almost went and got pierced again today, number eleven, the pain and commemoration and lasting symbol. Almost. Maybe in a few days. I will see if there is still something to want to feel independent about. I really have the best roommates anyone could ask for.