DWM at 24*

*pretend it's Saturday (09.02.82) at exactly 12 noon when I officially turn 24.

I am highly self-involved, socially evolved and morally devolved.
I am a free-spirit who loves a good story and welcomes an occasional scene.
I think cravings are healthy, addictions are normal and breakdowns should be expected.

I don’t avoid lust-triggers, Taint is my second middle name, and self control is a religion I will never understand.
I am more fun when I’m drunk, write better when I’m hungover, and could eat a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts in one sitting.

I don’t play nice when I’m sober, I don’t experience embarrassment often and my dance moves are underrated.
I prefer orange juice over coffee, mimosas over bloody marys and I’ve probably drank more Malibu Coconut Rum in my lifetime to fill the pool in your parents’ backyard.
Little Debbies got me through college, beer is a taste I will never acquire and I refuse to buy a bottle of wine for more than ten dollars.

I don’t eat ice cream because of the texture and don’t date virgins because of the responsibility.
I am deprived of affection by choice, condone compulsive masturbation, and believe in little more than myself.
I don’t trust sex addicts, individuals who delete their online profiles or those who have never seen an episode of The OC.
I hate hype, I’m over animation and I like some sub-sets of country music.

I work well under pressure, but don’t like to be pushed.
I like to win, but I’m not very competitive.
I used to have a lazy eye and the symptoms have since moved to the rest of my body.

Bad timing is bad, but my timing is the worst.
MySpace is crack and Pop Culture is God.
Sobriety is blasphemy and revenge is useless.
Honest mistakes don’t happen and great minds never think alike.

Cynicism is my friend, Ethan Hawke is my lover and New York City is my home.
24 is scheduled to be a great age full of much more good than bad.
Here’s to making things work.

No turning back,
David Watts Miller