Everything is Dr. Dog, David Bazan, Portugal The Man, Wilco. Sexual assault jokes aren't funny, even if I write a million of them, it doesn't get better, or desensitize me more. It just pisses me off and makes everyone want to walk away from me, and whatever I stand for. Makes me want to blow his brains out, or mine. Which ever is more convenient. Work blows. I hate children, so why the fuck am I watching one? I'm broke. I have a carton of cigarettes and some dirty jeans to my name. And I want to leave. Migraines still hitting hard, almost daily. No more vicodin. No more friends. I cannot be social. Am considering a vow of silence, no one would notice, I'm sure. Also a vow of celibacy. Men be damned, your interest in me is minimal and shallow anyway. I'm pretty sure, were there liquor in my vicinity, or money in my pocket, I'd develop a drinking problem based solely on boredom and depression. Still rebuilding, not working out too well. Fuck.