i remember the chocolate cake and the white wine which i of course spilled on my dress, i wish i could be there again. now my heart is aching and i'm guessing it's my coffee-n-cigarettes diet and all the terrible things that are my fault. i cannot eat or sleep, but hey! i can clean, kill bugs with a vacuum cleaner in the middle of the night, make bloody great mixtapes (that unfortunately often don't carry out but remain an idea), make people miserable because i can't speak, and make them oh-so-happy when i sometimes can.

hmm. i could have just said "hands off, i don't want you". i made a fool of myself on thursday, when i ran away and hid in the middle of the dancefloor, where everyone could see how weak my knees had become and how i from then on could communicate only in cat-language. someone found me stylish and took a photo of me and oh how it made me happy and shaky. it ruined my first effort to dance.

i need to be the little sister now, please carry me home and dance my favorite serge g hits with me.