you know.

hi from Dallas, millions and billions of houses exactly alike, empty from 9 to 5, shadows fanning out around them. full of movement, dallas seems desolate and exhausted and grey/gloomy, forlorn. I received an email from myself that I don't remember writing. I wrote it last night at Nick's party and I was very drunk and I smoked a thousand cigarettes.

dear christian,

there is a pretty, platitudinous party going on beneath me, but I feel like I can't be a part of it. I don't want to be a part of it, another mechanical machine, talking about mundane things. sometimes I am the only friend I want to have. a girl threw herself into the pool and expected someone to provide her with pants, and that is what I cannot stand, and that is what I cannot live for. I'm sorry, me, if I'm being petty, or superficial, or drunk, or thoughtless. earlier I was bounding down the stairs to the saddest sight: nick's dad slumped over in a chair, his back to me, absent-minddly twiddling a sharpie between his fingers. the hunched sadness can't be reached with mere words. blah blah blah, I'm sad, I'm lonely, blah blah blah blah blah. can't relate. can't relat.e can't relate. can't relattttteeee. people flail, fight, win, want to be acknowledged. god, I'm too exhausted to fathom anything, the lonliness, the lack of reach. jesus. what am I... living for. seriosuly. think abuot this.

lovelovelovelove,

christianchirstianchiristianinininininininiinnnnnnn:(

that was silly! parties are fun!

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