I don't quite fit in.

I'm slowly realizing more and more that I don't fit in here, this place, the great Los Angeles California. I think it first struck me when I was grabbing a cup of coffee a few months back at some shithole in Burbank. A stout woman dripping in designer duds ordered some kind of bizarre drink that threw the baristas off. Upon receiving her drink she kept returning it demanding perfection once more, insisting that the milk in this concoction was not that of soy. Over and over again, I watched this woman, absolutely disgusted. She finally demanded her money back; was obnoxiously loud on her way out the door, and dove into some foreign car I couldn't pronounce for the life of me. I'm not one to support the flashy lifestyle or to flaunt money because believe it or not, I had it at one point and it really brings out the worst in people.You really find out who your true friends are when you are one broke motherfucker. I go out with friends at night, everything costs and arm and a leg. Every club is the exactly the same as the next, perhaps with different decor, yet the same shitty Euro trance painfully blares through distorted speakers and the floor is alive. All the women try really hard to look different, when oddly enough they all wind up looking alike. A huge blur of blunt bangs, high wasted pants and some form of stiletto, topped off with "vintage" jewelry and the latest satchel from Urban Outfitters. Nobody is unique. Even by simply trying to be "unique" you set yourself into the stereotype of the "I was dragged here by friends. I don't care about anything and I really don't want to be here"... meanwhile your tapping your foot to the beat, lighting up that cigarette and getting phone numbers. See you next week? You betcha. I'm guilty of this as well myself, I used to eat it up. Now I'm repulsed by it. I want to exploit it. I want to make money off of it, pay off my bills, then peace out. Fuck this place, I'm out of here. I want to rape the wallets of every hipster stepping foot inside of that door and break away. Making out at the park, walking the beaches at night, hiking up in the mountains, going for drives to nowhere, just to get out of the house and clear my mind. I miss those things I once took for granted. I couldn't care less about the latest issue of Nylon. I don't want to be a clothing designer or a cosmetologist like every other girl out here. Loud music. Whatever shirt is laying on my floor. Leftovers. Bowling. That's what I'm all about. Fuck it, I don't care if your broke. Lets kick back, watch a movie and call it a night.