I don't know why I don't immediately find ten various meanings behind Horace's poems, because my imagination really has no boundary at the limits of the possible horrors in my life. I realized recently how much I have to change my verbal responses to things. I went through a phase last year where when asked how I was I would respond with the truth or a pause, because I couldn't bare another white lie. But if you don't have a witty or cute quick response, people make you intro into your bad day or whatever it was. When things aren't going well enough to respond with an "I'm fine" chances are my lips and mind are not synced up so well. It's a slower pace all around.

Maybe I'll stop pretending to be fine around the people who actually care. I wish I had had this idea.

On another note, Lou: I hope the mixtape helps you with some of what you're going through. I will gladly lose my voice for you any day, as well as leave a creepy awesome voicemail. I would do that for any good friend, after all, who can pass up a hot almost mannish raspy late night radio host's voice?

EDIT: My roommate keeps pointing out how drugged up I sound. Let's please remember I am mixing pills to breathe.