My worst nightmare

I found a job that allows me to continue my bad sleeping habits. I'm never going to become a functioning member of society. Ever. I'm always going to be crazy, mixed-up, flying by the seat of her pants, insane, scatterbrained Joy.

At least I get laid more than the average normal person. Because they're like 35-40 and married to someone that's either bad in the sack or impossibly for them to love. Or both.

In some small way I'm better than the type of person I aspire to be right? Right. Totally right.

Moving in with Andrew is driving me up a fucking wall. I have entirely too much shit. Why is it SO much damn junk is in my possession? And why do I seem to need it all? Why am I packing up my shit by myself? Why am I always by myself whenever I turn around?


what the fuck is the deal with my damn life???