I am in the same place I've always been, minus the momentum. Drinking to my direct detriment. Happy in a relationship. All my friends are here. Insanely underemployed. On a considerable amount of medication. Listening to a lot of music every day. Different songs and stuff. Skating a lot. The laptop is acting up. What if you put Gorilla Glue in your ear instead of Debrox. What if you didn't watch any TV at all. What if you faced your sex problems. What if you became a dog walker.
On the toilet this afternoon I was reading about invisible disability versus visible disability on Instagram stories and I noticed one of the girls posting. We went on a date once, 8 years ago. We went to McCarren Park. I thought it was cool her parents lived in different cities.
On Thursday, before my smartphone and wallet dissipated into nothingness, but after I blasted myself in the face with a pint of White Claw, I contemplated the novelty of a faded crush. I suppose it's juvenile, or strange, to dwell on it afterward.
When I called Nate on Friday, through Instagram, to explain the disaster that I had created at St. Dymphna's, I could hear Moonbaby mewling in the background.
Also, I quit my job last week. I will not work a 12-hour shift at a restaurant where Ed Sheeran is taping a late-night show downstairs. Fuck New York for shit like that, fuck HR for hiring me with literally no Spanish, and fuck Midtown Manhattan.