I keep waiting for it to stop hurting. 

The omnipresent pain that I once likened to a friend?  Well, he’s a bad influence.  We brood too much and laugh too little.  And even though he does let me buy many pairs of cute shoes, he does not approve of living life.  Reading back on my last few entries, I don’t like whom I have turned into.  I just need to get over it.  Over everything.  I hate sitting around waiting.  Waiting sucks. 

Fuck it, it’s payday.

And I need a cocktail.  Or seven.