Doodoo

I fucked it. Aaron just left for Boston. I came home from the airport. I was thinking that his wise, reasonable words curb my jumbled, dramatic thoughts. I pulled into the parking spot, but I guess I thought the gas was the brake and I slammed into the stones in front of the spot. It felt like an attack. I hit my face on the wheel. I thought there'd be blood in my teeth, but I just tasted a little. I felt very stupid and predictable. I hit my knees on the steering column. It's broke. I couldn't turn the wheel much. I put a headlight case back on. My license plate is dented. The car won't start. I'm supposed to go to Johnson's Backyard Garden to volunteer tomorrow morning. Maybe I should call to get it fixed. Very embarrassing. Waste of money. Someone with a car to take me there early (8) tomorrow.
What the hell. I feel like I'm not going now. I guess it should be fixed, or maybe new car. I have no money and no job prospects. I love everything but it's so pointless. Damn God on beech... sheeet.... faaaakkkkee rrrrrrr. I miss Aaron already. Just four months to go. Who to do? What to go? Where to be? How to say?

Depressing grey day. 15,000,000,000 blowsnobs. I tried. I try. I am a little, feeble, bleak, tossed salada.
What kinds of things are good. Julie. Hang out, walk, talk to julie. ... Okay... Bye, freend.