Fuck to come.

GOOD LUCK EXPLORING THE INFINITE ABYSS!!!

It was prefect, everything.

Something I wrote on my skateboard in 8th grade and tells so much about me it is amazing:

"Just tryin' to live"

[I/you/we] shouldn't have done it.

I am torn, in more directions than one.

What is life, but a story waiting to be told ?

As if time could be told in a way that is real and has definition. As if it could be messured, stamped and tagged. As if one could have the huberius to tell time what it is, and say that they know it better than itself. It is nothing a messurment of something that can not be messured, it is not something to be made as one thing. My time is ( Read more... )

It is as if to say I have lost my time.

It's funny really, pretending to be goth, sort of making fun of it, but in a weird way I feel as if some it is being embarrassed.