3am is my sun and i revolve around it.

if i were filthy rich, i would buy a massive house and customize a windowless room full of beige suede furniture and beige suede walls (there's nothing more aesthetically irritating than beige suede with its men's warehouse suit and lack of ambition). and this would be my fuck room. this room would be where i go, at my discretion, to quietly closing the door behind me and tear up the room screaming, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!" until i feel like i can get a hold of myself again and go out and make more money.

being filthy rich = the luxury of a "fuck" room