You can give birth to an excuse so easily, you'd believe it's always been there.

Everything about me is getting bigger and it's not my imagination. Hya hya, Sha-Clack-Clack, get me the fuck off this track.

I spoke Arabic in a dream last night and had at least two things in mind to say (to my dream-peers) in Farsi. Ridiculous(ly awesome).

It seems like a good half the people I know are on the decline, including myself. I wonder if it is the weather. Here, right now, it is 67 degrees Fahrenheit and the skies are clear. You will see the moon if you look. I doubt you will look minus a glance. The sky is more beautiful than we deserve. We either deserve more or less than we give ourselves credit for; I wonder if anyone ever gives themselves exactly what they need, deserve.

I feel like my back is up against a wall
and I got a mack truck two inches from my face
every cell in my body is screaming "RUN."
"Run free" my mind tells me,
but those two words cannot occupy the same space in reality.

I feel disgusting wearing the amount of makeup I do. I never used to feel this way. It's a means to an end, I suppose. I get disgusted when I see people take hours to get ready. I used to do that. I get disgusted at myself for not caring anymore. I only don't care sometimes, though. This is deeply frustrating as I feel like a hypocrite almost all of the time. I wish I was more of an asshole so this was mentally justifiable.

About two weeks ago, David asked me if my undereyes really "looked like that" or something along those lines. He was wondering if I was wearing makeup underneath them; that is how dark they are without concealer. I look so sickly and exhausted that I appear to be enhancing it. Fantasmic.

So many people seem to be downward spiraling. Looking back on "the best times" of their lives. Bullshit. Make that the future. Stop looking back so hard and still pretend to be stoic. The sunset's the wrong direction and you're always awake for it, though we all must admit: it's pretty damn incredible. But you are not your past, your future is not only made up of the "good times" you've had, stop focusing on the past. Be grateful but go on. Do your best work. Get closer to your old friends. Make new ones, too. Stop thinking about what you used to look like. Asterisk. Stop writing your autobiography before you're dead and live it first. This is not me trying to sound poetic or lecture anybody. I'm just rambling, as always. Goodnight.

Delam barat kheyli tang shodeh.