that’s how it started

As I sit in bed with the dress from new years eve still on, I can’t figure out whether the aching I’m feeling is from a hangover or from developing cavities because I drink malibu and coke all the time.

2010 seems like such a perfect number, last night the fact that I’m superstitious came up in conversation a lot. I’ll believe in 11:11, new years eve, knocking on wood, astrology etc, because those things keep me sane. I’ll keep faith in this year even if you don’t.

I miss New York in the summer, the smell of Sabrett stands and the stickiness of wearing next to nothing. Happy New Year.
Good luck, I love you.