Cyka
Sunday, Dec. 07, 2003 at 10:22 p.m.
I woke up one day and nothing was the same. I got out of bed and felt different. Nothing feels like it will be the same for me.
The things I onced loved I cant find myself doing anymore. I no longer can pick up a book and read for hours. I dont remember when the last time I read was. And writing in here, atleast, just seems old and boring. I feel like Im writing to no one; a dead audience.
My life now seems to revolve around russian men, cigerettes, alcohol and **gasp** //sex//. Im your regular alcoholic chain smoking slut. Fuck....Im my fucking mother. Just fucking like her. Or what she seemed to be. The only thing I knew her to be.
Ive turned onto a road to regret; to nowhere. Maybe I'll just marry a russian for his money. Fuck... I dont even know where they get their money, they dont work. Nor will they say how they can pay for an Audi with cash.
I dont even know if you call any of this shit fun. Why do I waste my time on Pasha (Paul) Lusiwitz. A fucking hot russian. What the fuck is it about him?
Nothing feels the fucking same.
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