I was not

supposed to write this blog. Quite honestly I don't feel good about anything right now, but I'm pulling myself through thanks to all those bootleg cds I bought yesterday. I would've gone mad if I didn't have anything to chauffer my declining mental health with.

I'm going mad. Mad but still beautiful.

I need not discuss the merits of death because I had done that some time ago when similar ghosts had haunted my puny world the way it's doing again today. There was one time last night I just stared at my celfone and questioned why I even had one. I clearly can't call on anyone on my phonebook to console me at 3 in the morning. That is MY job. I'M the one they call in the wee hours of the day. It sucks more because my partner-in-crime against existentialism is somewhere south of civilization probably studying for her exams or something.

I'm bereft again. Bereft but still beautiful ... CRAZY beautiful.