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I hate to deviate from the plan at hand, but in all my luck i'm drunk and at home again. I've devised charts and graphs to avoid such events; however my equations never involved you, so they're flawed at best.

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i want it back. i need to have it back.

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It's sorta like the feeling you get when you look around and see:
-piles and piles of filthy clothes
-two fully filled ashtrays
-several half-drank coffee cups
-glass cleaner / febreeze
-half-finished work
-mostly uncrossed to-do lists
-every inch of your desk filled
and you think, yeah, i'm fucking glad there's nobody around to fuck this up.

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Remember us for our exaggerations, not our reality!

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MY FIRST REGRET WAS WAKING UP THAT MORNING FEELING LIKE A MILLION BUCKS. MY SECOND REGRET WAS ANSWERING YOUR PHONE CALL. MY THIRD REGRET WAS THAT YOU DIDN'T HEAR THE LAST TWO WORDS I YELLED AT YOU ON THE PHONE. MY FOURTH REGRET WAS NOT REALIZING UNTIL MIDNIGHT THAT IT WOULDN'T HAVE MADE A DIFFERENCE. MY LAST REGRET IS THAT I STILL HAVE HOPE.

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should i still wash my sheets every four weeks even if it's a bed in which no woman ever sleeps or i should i second guess shaving three times a week because shaving costs money and i can barely afford to eat and should i cut my hair short and be proud of my family's forehead and practice smiling in mirrors every spare glance i get and probably...

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I COULD STOP IF I WANTED TO.