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2015 May


This is when I realized how bad shit was. I turned to electronic music, anything that gave me an escape or confidence boost. I rolled down the windows and bumped it--house music, Kero Kero Bonito for this bilingual geek girl anthem, yelling "all I do is flex, I on't need a reason" out to the world nodding to Dizzee Rascal. Fuck face judged me for all that, too. "Oh, you're that kind of person."

I took him to see a documentary of his god Elliott Smith, where a clip of "Everything Means Nothing To Me" broke my heart. He had a panic attack afterwards while out for food that he wanted, per usual, none of. He flew to Hong Kong and was a jerk to everyone there which he drunkenly IMed me about at strange hours til I told him I didn't want to hear it, and he unfriended me immediately. The end.

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