Dear Diary,
I know I partied yesterday, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't that hard. Yeah I had a gang of tacos and a couple cups of some drank. F***in street tacos. Ten seconds of joy, 30 years of misery. And? It wasn't enough to hit the numbers I'm seeing this morning. That s**ts damn near impossible. The only thing I can really see as a possible explanation of all of this is that the 233 was a lie. I happily accepted it though I was kinda leery about it from the start. But why tell the truth today? It's Sunday? Why do you care? You know what? I don't care. Just keep telling me what I need to hear. Hopefully it's the truth. Naw, I'm lying. Ok, I'll settle for true lies. Just keep telling me I'm getting smaller, or I'm gonna have to kill you. Have I killed people before? Yeah, but they were all bad. Now I've never really celebrated it before, but I'm gonna party hard on your grave. I'm already working on my dance moves. You've seen Thriller, right?
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