This lately heart has been working like trying to fuck on whisky and misplaced insecurity.
And that doesn’t fly. Not now. Not ever.
…
I just bought a one way to Paris. Though, it’s not entirely impulsive. I’m not out for 2 months. I don’t know when or from where I’ll return to the states, but I will. Los Angeles is my home. It’s what I’ll miss when I go. This sweet, dirty little tramp of a city.
…
I need to be cracked, built, hurt, chipped, swooned, broken. I miss it hard and need it again. A million and one things I've yet to imagine. A million and one things that aren’t here for me all of a sudden.
This life has grown comfortable. It’s become safe and reliable. I’m content and it’s beginning to shake my skull. Why? Because honest, goodness…
I’d rather be miserable. I’d prefer being hung from my ankles, spun on my face.
Somewhere along the way, that’s what I became. When you think like that and mean it, really mean it…you have nothing to lose.
…
vag-a-bond
a: of, relating to, or characteristic of a wanderer.
b: leading an unsettled, irresponsible, or disreputable life.
What can I say? I’m a motherfucking Toys R’ Us kid.
