Its almost done. My monstrous purple room.
Putting up decorations its starting to feel a lot more comfortable. New fresh, like my life feels for this summer. I’m trying to ignore the things I’ve been, in the words of Buddy Wakefield, trading all I was for who I’d like to be. I’m trying. I want my life back, I want to take it and remake it into the things I’ve always been able to do but never seem to. The spring is holding its breath for my summer, I’m trying not to buy the hype. Fresh starts have a way of dissapointing me down the road. But if I’d seen me in this house starting this real life in portland a year ago, I’d say thats exactly where i want to be, things are looking up…I feel like Reed thus far has been a separate life, not portland, not me, not my life, but a bubble of isolate hell contained miraculously on a pretty green campus and thriving on drugs and brochure pictureshoot lives. This makes it easier to dissasociate. That was not me. I was not there. I didn’t do that. Or that, or that or that or that or that or that or that or that. But this is a familiar mantra. It has a way of not working. I want this to work. I’m sitting in Mikes place cause mine doesn’t have internet, mulling over things and waiting for him to finish trimming some ridiculous new style of facial hair. Then its off to get my queen size mattress and then my room will finally be complete in all its glorius pinky-purple completeness.

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