||[Oct. 2nd, 2007|07:43 pm]
|[||current state of overwhelming misery
|[||rockin out to
|||||sometimes it hurts- stabbing westward||]|
So today was my second day as a Pita Pit employee.
I dropped Philly Cheese Steak Extreme or whatever it's called on the floor.
A stripper yelled at me for putting oil on her chicken breast in order to make it cook faster.
I got complemented on my skills towards rolling a wheat pita, though. Those things break quite easily, apparently.
On a side note:
I tried so hard to hate you, but it only made things worse.
I only end up hating myself.
And as my hatred grows, so do the lies.
It's hard to face the truth sometimes.
God I feel so useless.
I get this way when I try to get over you.
I get this way...will I ever get over you?
How come I let myself get so bent out of shape over a fling?