Why isn't this a blog about happy little elfs? Or make-up or clothes or fun facts or celebrities or something shallow and jolly? But no, it has to be about meta-hate. And difficult emotions. And such crap. Actually, it's not even fun writing anymore. And I don't know why I keep on writing long after my author dreams have died. Because I think they did. I'm not exceptionally talented or extremely disciplined - traits needed to make a good author. Hopefully I'll end up at a desk job at some office where I'm not too unhappy. And also I thought I'd cram in an apology here. I apologise for my love of alcohol, it can make me a shitbrain sometimes. But I am past the "you need to start be aware of what it is you do to others and yourself when you drink"-phase. That is so PDP. I am aware actually. Hurt is never intentional from my side but sometimes it's just a fucking relief to not behave so fucking proper. Proper is so 9th grade. And these days, proper is only a painful mask I wear to be accepted by others who hold proper as their standard.
After all, everything is cool as long as I'm getting thinner.
