I just downloaded three more songs by David Bowie, because obviously you can never have enough Bowie. I have a feeling these three are rare just because they are extra weird. "Beauty and the Beast" has an especially odd opening.

I'm not doing well, lovelies. I'm pretty mad at some of my friends for lying to me, which sings clearly of underestimation on their part, because I am no fool. In response to the shocking realization of being used by my friends, I am retreating into isolation. I am losing weight, but I don't know how much because I don't weigh myself. I barely count calories. I just look in the mirror and restrict and binge and purge and thoroughly send myself spiraling into the bowels of hell. The sad part is that this time I know is has absolutely nothing to do with how much I weigh. I honestly don't think I'm fat. It's just a coping mechanism. I can tell how much I've slimmed down, even though I wasn't fat before that. I'm just... letting go.

I write really lusty poetry these days. I'm pretty sure I'm gay. I just wish rescue-relationships were readily available.

Fuck all of this.