NO money. NOOOO MONEY. All the rent is gone. Gotta make it up. Part of me just wants to yell: FUCK IT. I know I can't. I know that the only money we can spend tonight is the 4 dollars we use at McDonalds on the dollar menu (two McChickens and two Double Cheeseburgers).
I've never gone through a real REAL coke withdrawal. I've heard it's not as bad as opiates, which makes me happy because that was so bad I only lasted a day before I was back on shit--vomiting cranberry juice into my trashcan with two percocets in my belly (I had just been in the hospital for all of that arm shit).
R is home and I'm happy. We're watching jokes, eating muffins from his work, smoking a bowl, and watching TV. We feel like shit, but we're positive.
Optimism or some shit--will you get us through this?
R pretends to snort a blueberry muffin, like Joaquin Pheonix snorting the weed in "I'm Still Here." We've also now summed up Brittany Murphy's career as "being on a lot of drugs and crying." I guess that's about right. You can't be on a lot of drugs, and expect that all those good feelings won't be repaid with bad ones.
- Lucy
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