Habit; 28

New year, new snow, new start. It's the mythos of revival, which stretched America to the Pacific, which stretched me past frustration. I try, you know, I fucking try. And it doesn't fucking work. I am, from all angles, immeasurably and unutterably screwed up. It's my own fault (so I never fought it, and it's too late now).

No, really, it is. Want to see? Yeah, okay, okay, let's play in the new snow.

First, find a park. Too cold. back home, back inside for a cigarette. No stopping those. Inhale, exhale. Don't even bother to sit near a window.