Don't let the title fool you. I will not talk about Hunter S. Thompson. I have never read any of his work, and talking about him would be pointless.

I will talk about this. I'm a fraud. I'm not really eighteen years old. I'm not old enough to take care of myself. I'm not anywhere close to being an adult. I was watching this PBS documentary about Malcolm X last night, and it said that at 17 he became an effing street hustler. Okay, so a street hustler isn't exactly the sort of career I'm aiming for, but the point is this: he was independent. Not only did he not have to rely on anyone to provide for him, but he was actually able to con people out of their money. I can't even lie to my mom convincingly.

I don't have any ambition anymore. At all. I don't care about being successful. I care about sleeping.

I'm getting real obsessive lately. Not OCD obsessive. More like creepy stalker obsessive. And I can't really concentrate because of it.

Paradoxically, I feel as if a tremendous weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

posted at 6:52 PM by Alison

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