I'm quite tipsy, oh joy. I sort of love excuses to destroy. It's kind of sad, but what else can I do? Masochism is the closest I can come to guilt.
Yesterday I told my mother that she is just like my nana, her mother. Who has a severe anxiety disorder developing from old age. Because she was freaking the fuck out at the smallest thing that didn't concern her and I couldn't stand the negative energy anymore. It wasn't meant to hurt that much. I'm sorry it hurt her, but I never apologized. And she noticed.
I am a guiltless soulless being, trying to substitute a purge for shame. It clogged up the train station toilet, and made me laugh inside with bitter insanity.
I am a horrible person who cares for nothing.
I will do that blogger award, btw, once I get my head straight.