cheetohs and tequila

This blog has turned into somewhat of a romantic, sticky, pity tromp through the past couple weeks. I apologize. Times are soggy. I rode the subway home today and I ate cheetohs out of my purse so that no one could see me. Three of my fingers were bright orange as I held onto the escalator. When I got home I had tequila and then I went to pretend to eat dinner and everything tasted like not-tequila. It was not a great day or a great week and for that matter it may have been a rough year, more than I would like to admit, but lets not pretend I have it bad. I have everything that everyone else wants and I only cry because I have allowed it time.

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