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You make me laugh more than anyone else ever has.

We have so much fun, don't we?

I'm not sorry I met you.
I'm not sorry it's over.
I'm not sorry there's nothing to say.

I am sorry, however, I don't even have the time to get drunk and pity myself for such a terrible streak.

(Medieval Times this weekend! I'll bake you a two-layer birthday cake with a chubby asian drawn in frosting, love.)

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I'm rediscovering what it's like to have the wind knocked from me: with breath in my chest one second and gone the next, with my tongue cemented to the roof of my mouth, with my blood bursting and burning and alive.

These weeks keep rolling and I can't keep track of the time of day or day of week or week left until Summer. Summer with a capital S ( Read more... )

I discovered I'm fucking a Republican.

Shit.

"Isn't it more fun this way anyway?"

No. It's not. I want you for my own.

My revolting indecisiveness strikes again. (I wanna think what I should know.)

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Reason #647 why having bangs rocks:

I can, in all my supreme retardation, burn half of them off with a flat iron, and they STILL look cool. Fuck, I can't even stand it.

( bangs! )

Reason #541 Why Having Bangs Rocks

If I let my brows get a tad shaggy, no one's the wiser.

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