Yesterday I had yoghurt with Sylvia Plath. We didn't do much we just stared at each other but it was as if I was reading her mind. Or maybe I wasn't. I just pretended that I was.
At night I had some sugar with the Angelina Jolie and a close friend that knows my secrets. We drank not too little and danced our pants off to innocence. It was annoying how my hat kept falling off while I offered strawberries which I took out of the bag that both the Abu Dhabi kid and I have. Slowly towards the dawn of the new day, the Abu Dhabi kid brought mr incredible along with a pretty namesake and we proceeded on with Mcdonald's breakfast. I wanted to know why my song wasn't playing that night. And then everything was a buzz and no one remembers what is there to do. There is much ado about nothing, but something may be everything.
Here I am typing out my whimsical life of this and that, the high and the low, the poor J who is so cute and I am sorry for no absolute reason. That I am in very much control of my alcohol tolerance. In such that I am full of poison, but I shouldn't be blamed since I am rather magnificent. Or fine it was all under the influence of alcohol I swear.
Today we woke up at 2 because Peter Parker called, if not, we'll probably still be asleep.
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