And there are a lot of new questions in my head that I'm not entirely certain I even wanted. Don't you hate the inexact science of deciphering meaning out of short exchanges of convo that might actually end up having none at all? It's nuts.

I'm growing increasingly frustrated with BCC students and staff. I hate to sound like this but I could write a book about how tedious some of my classes are solely due to the fact that the individual teaching them has no clue what they're talking about. I could get better information on Art 101 from a Google image search and I wouldn't have to take ( Read more... )

I feel like Prometheus and that goddamn eagle just keeps showing up to eat my liver. A trip down memory lane yields foul and nauseating results.

I need a pen and some paper because I'm writing the book on self-sabotage. A collection of poems, a manuscript, an email. I am the top expert in the country. Universities ask me to host seminars on the subject.

I can't wait to breathe some of that pollen ridden air soon. I'm like probably going to survive. Like probably.

I want to meet someone who litters, eats red meat, and has never heard of Chiodos before. All I'm looking for are genuine human beings who don't shop at H&M. People who drive gas guzzling cars and throw their cigarette butts out the window.

I don't want to do this anymore.

"The only difference between a best friend and a dissapointment is a matter of time."

The one thing my father ever said to me that carried any sort of weight or truth is also the one thing I wished he were wrong about. 

it's only at 3 in the morning, 
after i've just come home, 
that i feel the most secure with myself.

( Read more... )