i'm not mad

been having a bad time with glassware lately. i pride myself on my grace but in the last month or two i've shattered a soap dispenser, a wine glass, and chipped my gorgeous little soap dish. read into this as you'd like.

i've been rushing too much while also having too little shit to do. i drag myself out of bed by my hair and stumble to work and sob in bed after my four-hour shifts. drain a bottle of visine and reline my eyes. write when my roommates fall asleep. what a routine. i focus my eyes elsewhere; my friends talk about internships, theses, and foreign countries. 

wait for the door to slam. wait for my next drink. walk into a chorus of voices and watch it fall silent. wait for my bowl to fill with kibble and scarf it down. i don't know when you'll feed me next. it's ok. i can go without. i can wait.

it's okay. i was born a lap dog. i'm fucking great at it. 

please just laugh at this i'm only good at funny :))