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2012-11-23 - 1:43 a.m.
 But maybe, like, fuck it, ya know? Maybe we'll own this apartment, maybe we won't be scared, maybe we'll live with the six other people in this building and we'll make something awesome. Maybe we'll just live here in this oxymoron of a neighborhood and we won't worry about it, we will enjoy it, because the first two weeks were a fluke. Maybe we won't move in February and we'll make this our goddamn home, paint the walls, hang up that portrait of my goddamn friends who will never come to visit us again and just know that we're going to be alright. Maybe I won't spend a cold January apartment hunting and instead I'll take JN up on it and go to London and Paris and Cannes, if the offer still stands three days later. Maybe I'll be goddamn miserable in a foreign land with her, but I'll be in that foreign land and it will be great and I'll still be in control. Maybe I'll come home and this producer/bandmate dude won't flake, and this dream will be fulfilled. I read an article that advised not broadcasting lifestyle changes until at least a month after you've instilled them. I've always had a hard time resisting like that. There is so much inside of me right now and I want it all out.
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