It failed miserably.
I don’t think anyone reads my xanga anymore since I have so many other internet personalities to attend to, so I think I can write a bit more fearlessly in here now.
I am barely clutching on to rational thought right now. It’s taking every ounce of my consciousness to maintain a relatively healthy balance between my emotions. There are just too many potential realities that I could be facing in the not-so-distant future, each of which featuring everything falling apart. And I’m tired of falling apart. Or sometimes I just feel like Andy Warhol. Maybe I just never fall together.
Fuck girl-dom, man. Because 10 to 1, these could just be hormones.
I’m going to read The Alchemist now. Whatever, heart. I’m better off without you.