cheers, mate.

I stopped breathing at some point last night. I believe it was between James Franco's beautifully executed line diminishing the establishment and sensing the ebb and flow of the room as nerves tingled and fired up as the relief theory seemed to allow my troubles to float slowly out of my thoughts, trickling down, allowing airy substances of joy to seep into my skin, filling my body with endless possibility of happiness. I am happy. Happy as can be. I don't use the word happy much. Not trying to be melodramatic, but you don't hear everyone say that they are truly happy all the time. I feel it. I'm high on life (not weed this time), but life. I'm starting to get confident. Fuck, I am a pussy. I don't follow through with shit and I will change that. I whined at people why my life sucked and everyone knows why. You know why, Winslow. Because you let yourself be not happy with your life and yourself. Time to change that and I am making steps towards that now. New me and not that stupid bullshit I've been saying before and promising other people. Make myself happy and everything will fall into place. flkgjhjsdlgjas. I am happy and I am still freaked out that Garbage made a song for a James Bond movie. It is a beautiful ballad. Garbage and ballad. Do not compute. Also, if you want to be pen pals with me (I'm asking again), do tell me! I love writing letters and that is all.