I hate it when I put out a cigarette, and it continues to burn into a separate cigarett's filter catches fire and the smell is inescapable, a pungent reminder that I know how to do things with half an ass.

So it's a sitting thought, and when you start to move and walk the thoughts push onward, a tingling sensation and a hint of guilt. A sad reminder. Calendar days marked off on the wall like a ticking time-bomb full of pessimism, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Wander forth, wonder always. I wonder when I'll know where the hell I'm going, because tomorrow is a scary obstacle I'd rather totally avoid. I got paid today and my birthday is coming up, I think it's time to put something new on my skin.

For now I'm just going to get drunk and think of things I'd rather not remember I shouldn't be thinking of.