The Game

Money, drugs, no sleep, highs and lows. I finally found the holy grail, which smells exactly like methylone, but tastes like its going to kill me. Im spitting bills out like i was printing em, while only pulling 150 a week at work, Im tiny, darfur tiny.

Yet it doesnt mean a goddamn thing to me, not any one of them because i knew when i started this charade that none of these things could ever bring me what i considered happiness, unless i can measure out my friends happiness in metric units. Point is, its a poor mask for whats going on underneath. Of course i always think i look more fucked up than i really lead on.

Cops were sitting on ross' house this morning, i think that means its time to lay low for a while, and make a motion of trust i may not normally make, hopefully my horoscope agrees with me.

Ever since saturday i can't tell you if im living or dying, probably both, but either way some comfort/sleep would be amazing right now, even if its only more chemical comfort/xanax


its the most commonly perscribed anxyolitic for a reason!