eat, drink & be merry- for tomorrow we die..

i don't journal.

this is the closest i get.

so, sorry for random things that i post that mean nothing to anyone,

but these are the things i'd like to look back and remember.

today it was overcast.

the whole day felt weird,

like an autumn day that came too early.

i half expected it to snow a little.

i drank an entire pot of espresso. (like 12 cups)

i wrote back EVERYone.

i busted my ass to figure out the next month,

and money, 

and living,

and trying not to think too much.

i listened to TONs of muzak.

i took 2 bubble baths.

and painted my toenails chinchilla grey.

i walked to the market in my pj boxers.

i thought to myself as i was leaving my apartment,

"i bet this is totally taboo & unacceptable- oh well!"

it was.

everyone stared at me & muttered under their breath.

i practically ran home.

i will not do that again.

oof.

i sat in my windowsill smoking cigarettes & drinking whiskey in a tiny glass.

despite feeling super defeated, 

i try to pretend that this is EXactly how hemmingway & Chanel got their start:

in some ghetto apartment in Paris, doubting their entire existence.

i know that i'm destined for something that requires hard work.

(i hope i'm not a fool).

i really don't want to go home.

it's painful to even think of.

i distract myself.

i keep holding out that i'll meet some fabulous heiress in a cafe

who insists that i stay with her in Paris so i can learn French & fancy things from her & walk her dogs in exchange for a room in her huge estate.

we'll see... 

(i am a fool).

i have to live on 13Euros a day until i go home,

because of how hard i've fought for everything,

and how much money i've poured into my dreams.

i'm writing postcards and poetry and drawing tattoos.

old photographs and blonde bobby-pins make me painfully sad,

and i find them everywhere. especially when i'm looking.

i'm thankful for the happiness that these recent days have brought me.

i'm lucky.

i need to always remember.

i love being able to text and talk to my best friends,

free to be stupid and silly and reminded of true things. 

i miss the bratpack. 

i'm trying to understand all the things i just cannot understand,

about all that has happened,

and all that is yet to come.

i've given up, for today.

back to writing postcards.

yesterday i went to the Sorbonne,

tonight i'm watching The Darjeeling Limited,

in my bathtub,

in a hotel apartment,

in Paris. 

life is ironically beautiful.