Monte's dad went through his drawer of memories and found a letter addressed to Monte that he had never read from his Grandma. He had me read it because he couldn't read her cursive very well. As I was reading it I slowly realized it was written to him right before she died, he must have realized it too because by the end of it we were both in tears.

It seems as though I only amuse finding inspiration to write anything worthwhile when I'm wallowing in the most abysmal and fathomless of commiseration.
hm.

The one thing you'll learn over and over again for the rest of your life is that everyone is shit.
It's like getting continuously kicked in the face but each time the kick is more callous and tormenting than the last.
I am angry because I am so sad.
I am sad because I am so angry.

It's odd how often you notice rape being the premise of a joke when you're trying so desperately to dismantle the debris he/it left so guiltlessly in you.

Debris: (noun) the remains of something that has been destroyed or broken up.


So destroyed that it didn't even bother me when once again #### waited until I blacked out before having sex with me.
You wake up the next morning naked from the waist down and think "at least I didn't have to put up a struggle this time."

How do you tell someone they're not special enough to fuck to Elliott Smith ?

These days I get this sick satisfaction in knowing that I'm going to be alone forever.

Say Yes

Whenever I see an extremely old, withered, person I always have to resist the urge to ask them if they're ready to die.

Vicodin and tuna salad thoughts.

I sobbed for about an hour and a half. I wiped my slate clean and you're the only person I had ever felt that way about.

I knew you couldn't have even imagined loving me the way I would have loved you back.
So that's that.