not home

05 April 2004 @ 00:40
my mood

Secretly, I wish I was working the door for the punk show in Columbus that Darkwave Productions is putting on tonight. It's money paid under the table, a full gas tank, a good meal, and longed-for conversation. Right now I wouldn't even care if drunk lesbians hit on me.

Instead I get to come home in the middle of the night to an apartment that houses two psycho dogs but not their owners who have apparently been gone all day. The smell of feces is sickening and I clean it up not because I'm a nice roommate but because I'm tired of the smell. It hits you as soon as you enter the house. Disgusting.

Just one more reminder that this isn't home, but merely a place where I rest and keep my stuff.

(So where is home then?)
--Annie

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