the waste people leave behind.

tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. it's going to be like that alice cooper song. except it's going to be more like breaking a pinata, eating a hamburger cake, going to ccr, then camping.

This summer is the end, in every way we never thought possible.

IT'S OVER.

summers coming and nothing else matters. not nearly failing classes, not detentions for listening to my ipod during church. just one quick summer then october, then i'll be back .

if you have something to prove, prove it. i'm sick of your line breaks, your shitty metaphors. even your fiction is boring and repetitive.

for months all i've wanted is a change of scenery, and really, it's only getting warmer.

WATERFORD TOKE TEAM '06.
my mom saw a psychic and now i know i'll be successful by thirty.

it doesn't make a difference, you know, back porches, garages, basements.
p.s. fuck mountains.

its easy to stay sober but i guess im only saying that after nights like last night.