this shit sucks.

someone please put clive owen in a kerouc biopic. now.  thank you. from ceil and maggie.

step 1: book plane flight to paris for the weekend

step 2: stand back in awe as i admire how my life has turned into something so beautiful

step 3: french pilots go on strike

im sitting at a table of nice, normal girls that i hang out with.

resident of a house that we party at on a regular basis comes over and asks us, looking directly at me:

so which one of you wiped blood all over the walls of our bathroom friday night?

oddly (and i cant stress enough how odd this really is), i know for a fact that it wasn’t me. 

of course, that’s not going to stop everyone from assuming that it was. 

this shit sucks. what the fuck.

last night i put ranch dressing on my frosted flakes. 

i hate so much about the things i choose to be.

im going to hell.  

because its not really that easy to get drugs in galway you can buy super cutty legal shit in headshops.  pills are usually packaged as plant food and powders as bath salts.  yeah, pretty sketchy.  anyway some irish dude recommended this one called blow that imitates the effects of ecstasy using god knows what kinds of chemicals.  i tried it and liked it.  i recommended it to other people in my program. 

and then all of a sudden, everyones doing it.  and all the time.  

girls who had never smoked weed before have started popping fake plant food ecstasy like every fucking weekend.  and everyone recognizes that its all my fault.  

EEEFFFFFFFF

“cecilia, youre like the devil on my shoulder”.  

thanks.

terence, this is stupid stuff.

everyone in the house spent all day cleaning yesterday for these inspection things that they have here.   of course, i got shitfaced and decided to start cooking in the middle of the night and left a huge mess.  stayed in my room all day. 

my roommates want me dead.  im not gonna put up a fight.

so my mom finally responded to my email: 

I hope your stay in gaol was pleasant enough and wonder if they have the same bail system as we do and should I set up a fund? I do hope you will get to church once in a while. I will let you go and I love you and miss you, 

With love, 

Mom

before you breathe that sigh of relief, remember that this is my life.  i received that email while extremely intoxicated.  in an attempt to reply with a nice email out of gratitude, i end up writing back to her:

dear mom im resentful that you were cooler than me at your age. fuck you, you asshole. -your daughter, cecilia.

i can’t catch a break from myself.