My face currently. And no, this isn't some fashion statement. I'm thoroughly tired of doing nothing. Seriously, living in this mundane void is causing my forehead to crease. I need to eke out an angel to control my mind. Because at this precious moment of time, I only hear the devil's whispers. It cringes me inside whenever I'm alone at home with no one, unless you categorize my cats under people. On the same note, what hurts me even more is when the thought of an old woman living with her cats as company, an image rather trite in American films to project the sense of loneliness in the old-timers. I'm so afraid i'll turn out to be like them. Okay, worrying doesn't help. Does it?

and I need town badly. terribly. fuckingly.