The end of the month, and there is very little to say in order to make my presence known. All the fucked-up shit wasn't necessarily worth masking or glossing over for fanatical purposes. Even this right now is an act of shear self-indulgence. "Well he has to do or say something for August?" What color is it again? Maybe I should have dressed up in that color and awkwardly taken pictures of myself wearing non-typical garb. Or perhaps a fun and bright game of blog disassociation would do the body and mind good, like milk prescribed to cancer patients.
I'm not being funny, just all the same kinds of bitter and outspoken, but I think you can all trust me when I say that this month, August, was goddamn productive regardless of where everybody is, what they're doing and furthermore whether or not they're bothering anymore. I will always bother to appear disappointed when the truth of the matter is that I couldn't be happier.