I want to smoke so fucking badly.
All I want is one hit, one spark of my little red lighter to hit the end of this metal pipe and make me remember what it was like to not worry about these little ants crawling on me as I wake up thirsty, with nothing but a flat pabst blue ribbon spilled on my court summons and a cell phone with no missed calls from the people I miss to wake up to, and the only thing I can count on is my playlists, and bands that tell me

you don't know who you are but you know who you want to be,

and you know what, suddenly drinking with my friends as we talk about bands that absolutely SUCK and wonder what possess certain people to drink smirnoff ice as we try to incorporate two electric guitars, two acoustics, and a ukulele into the closest thing we can get to a "jam" doesn't sound so bad. And as I lay on the wet grass after star tripping and look up at this blue moon and new tunes begin to get stuck in my head, I really wish you could hear them with me. It's a modest mouse song that keeps repeating "everything is alright, everything is fine."

I am doing the best that I can.