syrup

this silky smooth music, the unsteady fall of rain outside my window, the pit in the bottom of my stomach that i have contemplated the origins of and have [likely erroneously] diagnosed as stress: coalescing to create an altogether pathetic scene of self-pity indulgence.

it just feels good to be sad sometimes.

other times it doesn't.

allow me to digress but not too far because this is most likely a benefactor to the previous statements. i hate food and i hate scales and i hate the media telling me i'm too fat and i hate myself for being constantly concerned about it. i can feel myself slipping back into that paranoid, miserable, calorie-counting state of mind. le sigh. and thus the cycle continues.

oh, this is a shameful post. most likely to be deleted in the morning when i realize a slightly punch-drunk aubrey tastelessly deemed it appropriate to post on the WWW. g'night.