TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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12.26.03, friday night
The last few days, a little sour milk. Not that I drink milk anymore. But I can still smell it and it's awful. Slinking about town during Christmas, I feel like an Outsider. The life I've chosen isn't easy but I hafta remember that there are alot of people whose lives are really hard and they didn't have a choice, so why the hell am I, with my university degree and my gift and my heart, all mopey? I chose this life for a reason, however vague, however undefined by my lack of discipline; I don't think I can choose anything else at this point. Even though The Other Way would have made it easier for me to make and be merry, it would have meant killing certain parts of myself.