shop.

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Short entries are meaningless. They are just tiny bits of placebo. SOmething that i could do with now. Im empty. I want to hide from all that is here but i cant, for i live here. Open and bare. As i was saying, short meaningless entries. I do a lot of that when i am short of time and in a hurry to get off. I dont even know why i bother. Perhaps its just becoming a habitual thing to word out some shit onto this space before ending the day. And if i fail to do so, i feel like a sinner. Not that thats a foreign feeling at all.

Ok, ive been spending a lot lately. Skirts, pants, tiny tees, bras and panties. You name it. It feels good, sweet pleasurable guilt. Leaves a hole in the pocket but it is nonetheless therapeutic. I hate sounding like this, bimbotic and soo darn vulnerable. But i love shopping. It takes your mind off the pain you have while at the same time stabbing you in the pocket. A painful distraction from the real pain. How nice is that?

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