I feel so guilty after trolling Pinterest for hours on end. It’s my domestic jerk-off I cant cleanse myself of. I clear my history to spare the embarassment of my boyfriend wondering why I looked at 40 images of “Money saving wedding tricks using twine, mason jars and dirt”. Do I need to know how to make champagne glass charms out of twist ties? NO. I DONT GIVE A FUCK. Yet, these soft lit images and fanciful typography lure me in every goddamn time.
Its amazing to think of all of these great musicians from back in the day having achieved success at such a young age. Here I am, just about the same age as they were then, sitting on a trail of Doritos crumbs watching CNN and praying to God my horoscope for June comes true.
What am I doing with my life?
I’m headed back to Cali in a week due to personal shit, and it’s rather bittersweet. As much as I’ll miss the beautiful people and places of Austin, it will be good to be back home. I’ll miss how green it is here, how clean the air is and most definitely driving around with the windows down feeling the warm Texan nights….but I also look forward to slipping into some heels and hitting up Hollywood with my better half (ms. Naomi Christie, duh.) oh Hollywood, how I missed you. I miss the blur of blunt bangs, walking MAC canvases and torn fishnets.
Austin, I look forward to settling down with you someday and releasing my kin to burn it all down.
Now, to work off all this celery I just ate. Gotta be LA ready….
I wake up everyday feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Hey guys, I think I’m in love.
You are not a writer, a poet, a model nor a photographer. You are a Tumblr spamming, hipstamatic addict with a webcam and are about as deep as a kiddie pool. You are not your fucking fashion frames, you are not your “vintage” oxfords….
Where have I been? I don’t even know. My mind has been running a mile a minute and I haven’t even gotten anywhere.
It takes a miracle to get me out anywhere. It’s like pulling teeth to pry me from my “cave” to do much anything.
I remember looking forward to going out on nights like this, nights so cold and crisp my leggings would catch on goosebumps- but I’d be dammned if I let it stop me. “Fuck pants.” we’d say as we huddled together and braved the cold, my girls and I; simply unstoppable. I spend my days confined to my room for the most part, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
I lay in bed and watch the morning news. I drink my coffee. I shower, I get dressed. I send out job applications. I read my eBooks, I’ll paint from time to time, I’ll spend the afternoon moping over some shitty things I’ve said. I’ll fuck around & occupy my mind with stupid little tasks to fill the time, counting down the hours until I can climb back into bed to repeat the process all over again.
And here I lay, sick [AS ALWAYS- go me! I can barely walk or lift my arms this week. No big deal.] under a heating blanket, pouring what’s left of my indifferent heart onto all of you. Victims at best, you read my bullshit, and “like” my posts. Chances are I’ve flaked on all of you who know me multiple times, and I wish I could say I’m sorry.
I need to get the fuck out of LA.
I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
I am a lascivious little treat, a lecherous little fucker; clawing, begging, calling out for more. Bogged down with an insatiable appetite for all that I cannot call my own, I crave skin-on-skin, bitten-lip nights underneath the city lights. I found home 2,803.9 miles away from where I sit at this very moment. New York, New York.
I sit here and watch the same shitty people come and go, breaking me down to bits and rebuilding me with false hope.
People are terrible.
There comes a point when the chase just isn’t worth it anymore. You can run in circles for days, weeks, a lifetime; wear your shoes down to dust. Hell, I often find myself forgetting what I was chasing after in the first place.
I decided since neither one of us can land a semi-perminant fuck buddy (aka “significant other”), that you and I should just cut the bullshit and get hitched. I too have spent countless hours in the gym after my last break-up. I’ve slimmmed down quite a bit, apparently guys like the feeling of fucking a chain link fence; I can grate cheese on my ribs. I think we’d be perfect together.We can drink ourselves stupid and leave voicemails on Sterner’s machine of us crying & begging her to come over; naked. Nevermind the dad issues, the age gap is perfect. I look forward to making this happen!