Bite my lip.

School is tomorrow.

No money.

Feeling nostalgic.

Need a new job.(fuck the proletariat.)

Loosing my patience.

He's comming back, and staying for good.

I'm worried he"ll tell me to move again.

I keep feeding of off air, and now I'm choking.

Can't keep doing the same thing.

I think it's about time I phone you tonight.