bones.

Restless again. A little sick, but not enough to make a bitch about it. I keep panicking because maybe everything I'm not looking at right this second doesn't exist. It's just as well that I usually never hear about the people I hate anymore, blipped out of the universe until my eyes create them again. My eyes are a GOD in this dead-end galaxy. Note to self: bend light. Fucking idiots making rainbows. Do you think you're cool?! I wish I could capture an image by looking real hard and then peeling the negatives off like old contacts. Someone just jiggled the front doorknob, I think. I'd feel safer had I a pistol, and maybe some cheesy garlic mashed potatoes. Mmm.