Current mood: Angsty, drunk.
Current music: Explosions in the Sky
Oh. My. God.
I can’t believe I just spent 3 fucking hours putting together furniture from IKEA for my girlfriend. (Don’t tell her I wrote this or I’ll be totally PO-ed.)
I thought about telling her how I felt about spending my Saturday night putting together furniture but I couldn’t bring myself to it. All I wanted was to hang out but then there was all this furniture. I just wish she knew how it feels to be me. I just wish everyone knew how it feels. It’s so difficult sometimes. I just want her to be here with me. I don’t want her to really know how I feel right now about the furniture and us and stuff I probably shouldn’t be telling anyone. I probably won’t, I’ll just keep it inside. I probably need therapy but I won’t because I don’t want anyone to know I’m like this. I mean, I don’t REALLY want people to know how I’m feeling. Just the internet. Which isn’t people.
Ugh my computer is being slow. I hate this. I think I might be an atheist. I dunno, though. I mean, I like the thought of god and stuff but it’s just confusing. OMG my neighbor is such a loud bitch. I wish she would just die already.
I just want this beer to be inside me so bad, to know how it feels, how it tastes. I want to know it in the biblical sense. I WANT TO DRINK SOME GODDAMN BEER!!!!111 Sometimes lifes so hard I just cant take it. But I want to feel powerful.
The droplets of sweat are like the fucking tears I shed each night.
Now I have extolled the fucking virtues of Breckenridge 471 before (like anybody cares) but I may have to take a fucking step back. This beer I had (while putting shelves together) was a wee bit fucking sour for my tastes. I think the hops pissed themselves when I cracked open the bottle. I think it would be better if the hops weren’t so sweet and tart. I can’t believe they would do this to me after all the good stuff I’ve said about them. Fuck.
Well, fuck them if they can’t handle the way I am. I was thinking about this earlier and I should just move on.
To another beer.
I want to cut myself, my soul, with this fucking bottle
I don’t know why everyone else is so into drama. Fuck that shit. I just want beer. I’m sorry. I just want the hops of this Sierra Nevada Torpedo to lacerate my mind, to penetrate my soul and to make me one with the world. It’s quite bitter, like me, with a bit of a kick, also like me. The pour is nice and strong, like me, and the smells are quite intoxicating, also like me. I like this beer like I like me. Be my friend?
Time to finish those shelves – see you in the morning, livejournalers!
