It still feels like winter to me.

"A cold open is the technique of jumping directly into a story at the beginning or opening of the show, before the opening credits are shown."

And then I realized that's what my entire life is. Just constantly jumping back and forth between stories, with no clue what is going on or any idea about what's happening. But I suppose that's what makes it all the more exciting, albeit equally frustrating.

So I lied. I said I would post three times a week, when I haven't even touched this for a little more than half a month. I guess making promises make me betray them through procrastination. I hate my personality.

Good news for those of you (who? no-one, in all actuality) who read this and despise me. I've had all my personal possessions taken away from me (apart from my cigarettes and lighter) and I am being forced to live like a monk for awhile.
Who knows, I might actually work out or get things done now that I have no outer distractions.

I was on the bus earlier. A blind person got on the bus with a seeing eye dog, and when she sat down, someone had the deformed brain cells to say to her: "That's a beautiful dog you have there." I hate people sometimes. They make me irate.

Irate is by and by a good word...

I realized I have an intense dislike for hope. As a ridiculously sized double edged sword, it really does crush you if it doesn't come through. But if you remove hope and lack expectations, you won't ever feel the happiness of that rare occurrence where your expectations are fulfilled.

Uh, yeah.

Where are my fucking glasses?

Anyway, I was totally and utterly destroyed a couple of nights ago (emotionally, like the whiny little bitch boy I am) after going out and having my heart crushed. (Wah wah, hear me cry.) So afterwards, I went to drown myself in my other friends' comfort and their alcohol (read: shit beer) while trying to recover from my traumatizing experiences that I so regularly indulge in. I surprisingly succeeded.

It's funny, watching a small intoxicated Vietnamese friend of mine trying to drunkenly walk in my friend's girlfriend's (although technically she's also my friend, so the pretext was not required) heels.

I need to take things as they come. Moderation. Not to look the gift horse in the mouth, but not to ignore the fact there IS a goddamn horse.

I'm not good with moderation.

Two things dawned upon me.

1. The word friend is incredibly cheap.

2. Ugh. I still like her. Almost love her. Even though there's no chance of me being happy with her.

But you know, in the end, after all your excuses have been cast away, it's all about the girl. That's all there is to it.

I need to smoke.

Because SMOKING, DRINKING, and SNORTING COCAINE makes you cool.

Right?