Well, Not

Oh, fuck. Since I heard this one song from Gogol Bordello, Let’s Get Radical, there’s this little sweet bitch in my head. She is so god damned cheerful… perky, you might say. Especially on, omg I admit it, I have them, hungover mornings, she wakes me with a cheerful: good morning!
Terrible, nothing worse than cheerful people when you are, well, not.
Don’t get me wrong, I am often cheerful. Well. Sort of. No really. Very occasionally. But when I have a cheerful person, completely independent from me, in my brain, it’s sort of frightening. Jesus. As if I didn’t have enough problems. What remains, but to listen to loud music and write a stupid blog-entry?
The only question is, where am I getting the money for my next bottle of wine?


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