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29 June 2007 @ 09:45 pm
The last time  
When someone tells you that they're only happy when you hate them, you have no choice but to try. It's the least you can do.

I'm tired. I can barely stay awake later than 10:30 p.m. lately. I attribute this to the 7 a.m. shifts that I am slowly become accustomed to, and also perhaps to the fact that I've been working out obsessively, doggedly, five or six days a week now, in an effort to perfect the physical while the spiritual slowly decays.

I'm smoking again, a lot, all day, and I don't care because the damage hasn't started to show on the outside yet. Mentally, I'm a total wreck, grasping at straws, feeling bitter and resentful of any and all happy endings, looking for reasons when there are none. Outwardly, however, I continue to improve. I'm getting thinner, stronger, I've even started tanning in an ultraviolet coffin in the constant pursuit of perfection.

I've always been one for irony.
 
 
Current Mood: blahblah
Current Music: Dizzy Rascal
 
 
 
The Confessional: heartilion on June 30th, 2007 06:00 am (UTC)
The only happy endings come at the end of a massage in Chinatown.