I'm back I lied!

Back. What does that mean anyways? That I'm writing as much as I used to? That I'm sharing? What? What is "back"??

I tried writing a regular post, but nothing came out. Stream it is...

What kind of idiot do you have to be to jump on the roof? Do you really think my walls and shelves aren't shaking or are you not thinking at all? Why is common courtesy so fucking hard to remember? When I go up there I sit on top of my own apartment so that I don't bother anyone else. I also don't fucking do jumping jacks or let my dog shit everywhere and not clean it up. No, I don't have a dog, but if I did it would be a black lab that remains in puppy form and is named Neo for Neosporin. Or not. I haven't really needed to use the stuff because I finally stopped chewing my fingers and nails. Sort of.

FUCK. There was a time when I couldn't wait to post. I'd write five stories in my journal on the subway and then race home to post them. Why aren't I like that any more? What changed? Everything. Everything has changed the past year. Fucking Septembers. I hate Septembers. Fucking credit cards and mean graphic design teachers and, and fucking limp celery. I hate limp celery.

My job. My job's an asshole! When will I ever get along with a fucking boss? I'm trying to get out of my department. It's not working out YET AGAIN.

Tat. He's so awesome that I don't know what to do with myself! He's the sweetest, kindest, nicest, everything-est ever. Four months! Four!

Cheese. Fuck you cheese! Why are you so delicious?? All I want to do is eat you.

That's all I got.