ooc: can I not work a bunch this week, ugh. I’ll be around when I can tonight!

Here, getting to my replies now.

Why do people even have pictures of me from this age. Whhhy.

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The bottle of vodka was swished around in his hand, his acoustic guitar was sitting on the edge of his bed and he wasn’t drunk but he was tipsy and that worked. He flopped back on his bed, scaring his pup in the process of it all- the doctors weren’t going to let him leave like they’d said they would this weekend and he was angry and annoyed. Sighing and rubbing his temples, he got up from the bed and paced around the room, in thought. He needed a damn break, a night that he wasn’ t being bothered by a ghost. So he intended to find that somehow- leaving his room and walking the hallway that would lead him outside- and to the freedom of fresh air; blue eyes looked around.

People were out, it wasn’t very late so he was thankful for the sunlight- not that the ghosts didn’t wonder in the day light, but at least it gave him a semi-peace of mind. Slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans he wondered, not really talking to anyone yet, he wanted to enjoy the peace of the outside world for a bit before someone bothered him- so he plopped down on a bench and looked around, trying to dig up inspiration from something for a new song. At least the music would distract him when he wasn’t forced to work.