i still have a slight haze in my brain and uneasiness under my skin
and tonight i go to Burlington to see a play.

apparently I am the subject of worry for some. I like when people care about me, but I feel guilty when they worry. Though for some I dont know where they picked up on anything to worry about.

for some reason, my hair smells like this childrens perfume someone gave me when i was very little. Why I remember the smell and why my hair has it now are mysteries to me

I cant solve all your problems anymore. I cannot keep fixing everything for you. I am so tired of defending you and fixing everything. but christ, i worry about what would go down if i didnt.
You are this vortex, that jsut sucks everything up from me, i give and i give and i give . . . . just throw me a fucking bone . . . not the damn crumb i got in the wrong place at the wrong time last night.

i wanted to tell you, but not surrounded by drunken friends . . . i wanted you to ask . . . i wanted to talk with someone about it . . . you wont ask again, i know.