eleven weeks

someday I will look back on this experience no longer bitter, knowing that I've somehow in some strange way learned from it.

but that's someday.

i don't particularly enjoy any of you at this point.

FourStrungSound: then what do you want to do, besides running away
pieces of beauty: i don't know
pieces of beauty: i'd like to be a garden gnome
FourStrungSound: and just how would you go about doing that?
pieces of beauty: don't know

hello and welcome to the rest of your life.

i'm sitting here laughing my ass off because i just received word that Hana has lost yet another cell phone to her monstrous toilet. her txt reads this:
"TroOPER died today- he fell in the toilet"

have you noticed that the older you get, the less rolly pollies you find?

and here i am, again. here i am left under the doormat to be used for another catastrophic day.
as for yourself, you're just another medicine.

"everything will be okay

in the end.

if it's not okay,

it's not the end."
-anonymous