(no subject)

[amyamy]

There's something about supermarkets at midnight that feels like you should be in a sad-girl movie montage or establishing shot. Maybe it's just me. Empty parking lot and shlubby clothes you've either just pulled on or have been wearing all day and really belong in a hamper by now, hair's in a mess, and there are just three or four people in the whole massive building, but you're still patting at it to make it lie flat and trying for the sassy, confidant walk, like you're trying to give off an air of "just popping in for a bit of milk for the cereal in the morning, totally classy, absolutely not eyeing the discount candies and contemplating wine coolers." And maybe it's even true, but there's something about the midnight supermarket with it's too bright lights and the furtive glances of the other shoppers that suggests you're just putting on a front and you're totally going back to your ridiculously messy apartment--empty of life except for the cat who will be thrilled you've come back and demand a share of the milk--where you will sit alone with the internet for hours when you should be in bed. Over tired, listening to the squeal of the train going past outside the window, trying to think deep thoughts or trying not to.

Then again, could just be me.