The reindeer is hiding by my side, above the biggest cigarette smoke. I want to try a whisky, please. I’ve been cold for a while. Might be because I was in love with someone who didn’t fell the same way. My salad came with a side dish of go fuck yourself. The doctor said I should sleep. Maybe he meant forever. I don’t like crappy love stories. I like the crappy relantionships that work because people love eachother too much. I love when I love too much. Or someone loves me too much. Let’s fucking be too much, maybe we’ll live better. I still wait for that drink. The reindeer grew old and died. Maybe that intoxicating smell kept her alive. Like the shitty things people are going through. I think that’s what keeps us alive. Feeling like shit. We want to know if we can survive when something really bad happens to us. And we do. It’s like conquering a math problem. Or not. I don’t know. I want a cigarette. I don’t need it anymore, but I want it. This is my relationship status by the way. Hopefully, I will get sick of wanting the same person over and over, because he never got sick of rejecting me from time to time. I love chips. Actually, I don’t. I just ate 1 box of them. I was bored. That’s enough confessing for today.