tales of a girl in the city

janvier 14, 2004


This morning I felt like everything was enough: this new manager I'm working with, the new agent, my breakfast, my walk to work.

Then why is it that I'm going to bed now and I feel...I don't know? Imaginary. Every day, I think, I just make myself up.

We'll all hate him again together tomorrow, I promise. But right now, I just thought of it--(God someone should invent a pill for this.)
He read to me sometimes. I don't--I mean. Well. So what. He read to her too.

funny again tomorrow. promise.