Getting comfortable, getting comfortable, getting...fucked.
Second semesters are just notorious in my life for fucking me up.
Productivity? What productivity?
"Dad, do you think I'm doing well in school or something?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh... you're going to be so disappointed this semester."
Weeks throwing tests, coming out subpar.
Desk lamp bulb went out, so if my face looks more peculiar than usual, it's the result of doing makeup in the dark.
Torturing myself going back and forth with this issue. I loathe feelings.
Taking weekends upon weekends off to dick around.
i.e. Tarjay + lunch with the roomie at Parker and Otis + cheesecake baking.
I would include the picture of my deliciously satisfying (and creamy but not in a milky way mmm) sammich, but.. wait... that's right... my phone is M.I.A./lost/stolen/gone, just plain gone. With my Dukecard
[#14 White bean spread, avocado and sprouts with red onion, and tomato on toasted wheat]
How? I really couldn't tell you... I don't usually lose things like these.. damaged, broken, destroyed, yes...not usually lost.
Can we all just agree that it's so much worse to lose something after being exposed to the greener grass//developing a routine with it? Apply to almost everything(/everyone) in life.
Oh god, how I just need to...go home and... cook while jamming to Travis Porter and Cher Lloyd (don't judge, it's constructive).
Silver lining: didn't lose my driver's license, enjoying the people who surround me, going home to restart and reset, sort of losing weight.
And I want him back.
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