where’s the barf bucket

my roommate and i drank multiple cups of coffee at 9 pm. and now i really feel sick. my head and bones are exploding.

i cleaned the bathroom and kitchen. 

i only have half my rent and it was due 3 days ago.

my work schedule this week is a joke.

i’m the worst waitress most of the time.

i don’t give a shit about that place. at all.

 do i care about the wrong things? am i fucking up by putting all my ambition and passion into love and art? am i being irresponsible for not putting school and money first?

no. because if i think if i die tomorrow, and all my life was spent worrying about the future, i would have failed and missed the point of it all.

i need to make what i am passionate about my job. thats the only solution.

and love.

i think of you in the middle of the night.

and how at the end of the day, i just want to be near you.

no matter how good or bad it is.

no matter how confusing it gets.

and how i do want to be loved by you.

but i guess i also want a million dollars.