Kanye West is yelling at me to buy a Rzr and "do the (RED)thing." Too bad he doesn't know that I'm already getting one and that the money is going to the single mom who got shot up with tons of drugs and squirted out four babies. Oh yea, and smokers with lung cancer. Actually, I have no evidence that that's even where the money goes. I can at least hope the money is going somewhere it should.
I've built up a tolerance to the 20 mg. This is such a waste. I hate it. I want to take my bones and guts out from my skin and just sit in a corner. My bones and guts in one corner with my skin hung up on a broken ceiling fan. I'd feel so much better.
Moving to New York is going to change my life forever. I hope we all end up happy.
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