When it rains on this side of town, it touches everything.

I wish I didn't have to, but I wasn't given a choice.

---

Churros are delicious. I'd have preferred it if they had been freshly made, but I'm not complaining. They definitely satisfy my sweet tooth in a way ice cream never will.



Now that I've moved back into my room (which, by the way, is still disorderly but getting better), I've been feeling like adding to the bare walls, to unpacking the final box and really just claiming it as my own. After all, most of the time I spend at home is spent in those four walls.

Nowhere else to go, but I'm so scared to stay.

I find that mending a broken heart is similar to healing the hand on which you've received stitches after a drunk night out with your friends. Let me tell you how...

Your hand hurts like a bitch. Even the simple action of making a fist causes pain, but you know that the pain is something you must endure if you want to get the strength back in your muscles. Close. Pain. Open. Pain. You persevere and the pain becomes almost like second nature. You begin not to feel it until one day, even though your hand is still healing, it's able to function as if the cut and five stitches aren't even there.

Your heart hurts like a bitch. Even the simple action of seeing him again (or even hearing his voice over the phone) causes pain, but you know that the pain is something you must endure if you want to love again. No communication. Pain. Random phone call. Pain. You persevere and the pain becomes almost like second nature. You begin not to feel it until one day, even though your heart is scarred, it's able to love as if it had never been broken.

All your sex and your diamonds.

I'm trying to clean this mess I call my room while trying to make sense of the mess I call my life.



CLICK: Another Unkept Secret



Clothes. Dirty Laundry. Books. Paper. MacBook. Jewellery. Chocolate. Vodka. Oil Burner. Shopping Bags. DS.
- Actually, more of an unkept room.

Give me sympathy after all of this is gone.

I bought two dresses today. Two of the same dress. Two different colors. And what for? After this terrible ordeal, even my money doesn't want to stay with me. It keeps looking for excuses to leave.

Therapeutic shopping is a double edged sword.

... Unless, of course, you have money.