2001-04-04 :: 12:38 a.m.
Resident Alien. That describes it.
Like I'm on a work visa in another country. Like I don't really fit in and my home is back at the old man bar, two limes for the lady, quarters for the pinball machine, a dvd movie, a dance around the kitchen, fake tattoos on the forehead...
Maybe it doesn't matter anymore and this is how it's supposed to be. Maybe I make too big a deal out of shit like this. Maybe I'm not meant to have that part of my life when I'm old.
Something just doesn't feel right, though. Something.
I'm sad and then I'm happy. When I'm happy I want to pick up the phone. I don't know how not to know him. I'm not sure how not to remember how much fun I used to have. Even during evening out with my girls...
God. I should just fucking go to sleep already, I'm an insomniac psycho right now.