it's always been a silly fear. that i will undeniably identify with the neurotic characters that woody allen plays in his own movies. yes, there's a towering chance that i would willingly drive to your house at four in the morning to kill spiders so you can sleep. i most likely will never quit denouncing los angeles, be it the weather, the people, or the fucking soullessness. the ice queen is fantastic and the princesses are idiots. is this my copy of catcher in the rye, or is it yours? death; i don't believe it's an issue, but i obsess over it anyway. and sex; had i been born male, the world would have already turned its back on me. i'm attracted to dead sharks. self-inflicted nausea while i salt my chicken, relieved of opportunities falling through. eat the salted chicken with a fraudulent grimace. undermine the optimists. weave through and around to wipe the smiles off faces. i don't want to ever hear alvy's pathetic echoes when i move, but i'll secretly always like it more than being anything else. there are two kinds of people in this world; the horrible and the miserable. be thankful to be the miserable.
this fucking movie is plaguing my mind again.
