Being bed ridden with fever for days on end im left alone for 8 hours a day drifting in and out of sleep, better, worse, tv show after tv show, popsicle after popsicle. I have a terrible amount of time to think (wank). My thoughts are mostly of recent and my body squirms at how much regret I feel, the soothing is ready with its same words of ‘you’ve done things you’ve regreted before…you will forget it. People do fucked up shit all the time and then we forget it.’
People don’t forget as Superbad will wisely tell you and as I think more and more and go further back in my memory then I wish to I find flashes of the most shameful, embarrassing scenes from my life. But we should laugh instead of cry at these moments right? am I right? am I? am I right? because I cant help but wonder (sex and the city bit) that there is more shame then there is fun in these nights. Which is a concern so the past few weeks (mainly involving alcohol) are not just grievances of a break up but go back as far as I can remember and makes me wonder wether I should just stay in this room…with its soft blankets, its aircon and its relatively fast internet? but after awhile I think fuck that I need a drink. So instead I might rewire my brain and come out next week a completely different person. I fucking wish.
back to sleep. this was exhausting.
-
catcream posted this
