Eyes wide shut?

Fuck this, I think. Fuck this.
The carpet I'm walking on feels like chewing-gum, my heels reluctantly kissing goodbye, more veins on my legs saying hello. Everyone's skin is a little bit blue and the way we keep hugging ourselves, it makes us look what we are. Cold and lonely and like we're about to lose it any minute.
If anyone leaves their beer on the bar for long enough, cockroaches will crawl up the bottle and drown themselves.
My skin looks the way salami does, and I'm downing shot after shot of tequila, no lemon, no salt. I can afford the intimacy now. How everyone's face looks is sympathetic. We all pity each other. We all pity ourselves. And yet we're still here.
I know all the songs, in order of succession.
People walk in and it's making money time. Hustle hustle hustle until you're either too drunk or couldn't be bothered. Or both. This is all really frustrating. And yet I'm still here.
People walk around taking it all in. I guess this is what must have been like for Alice, falling down that rabbit hole.
And then it's all a fucking wonderland I only remember in flashes.
I'm beyond disgust and frustration and all I feel is like one big shrug. I tell myself I could be doing worse. I could be a junkie. I could be a whore. I could be a bum.
What I don't tell myself is I could be doing loads better. I could. I don't know. But it pisses me off too bad, that I've got no one to blame but myself and I generally choose to ignore this. Yea. I act very mature. Big whoop.
By the end of the night, I'm thinking This is what the pretty little white rabbit must have felt like. Lost. Late? I don't know. I don't think so. I don't know.
And yet I'm Still. Fucking. Here.

Christmas

Someday... I'm going to have the Christmas of my dreams. Watching the snow fall, listening to beautiful music in silence (preferably snuggled up to some Greek-god of a man), with bright, white fairy lights diffusing the magic.
Until then, I'll have to make do.
And it's not so bad really.
Happy Christmas :) xx

Pff!!... and I couldn't have said it better than that!

Is it bad and totally shallow that I want to be Angelina Jolie when I grow up? Because I'm really fine with it, if that's the case. I'm known to be occasionally, deeply superficial .

At this point, I honestly couldn't be bothered to be bothered about my total lack of inspiration. It's almost Christmas and I still haven't decided how to feel about that. I have such pretty, early childhood memories of this time. And then I decided to grow up and everything lost its magic.
Although I still like going out to the fairy lights and the carols.
I just feel like snuggling up to someone and stay in watching movies...

But work calls. And reality calls...

No more of that, right now. I'm gonna go back to thinking about how lovely it would be if I looked like Angelina...

I sometimes wish I was found fully formed under some damp rock. No roots, no family. It's such an unnecessary cross to bear, these members that impose their presence on you throughout, talking talking, thinking they have the right to comment on whatever you do, helping themselves to you. Parasites.
I'm not going into one of my rants about how I need space and silence ( which I do), and how much I dislike most of the general public. I'm just saying.
Sometimes no family is better than a shit one.

Why is it that people complain about wanting to get a life, and once they do, they just complain they're too busy?




Or is that just me, then?