I can't talk. My mind's going too fast and it's all disorganized ( Read more... )

I feel like I've adopted this mental self-satisfied smirk on my face. I doubt it translates to my outward facial features, but it's there nonetheless. In my manner, in my thought process. It's even in my drawing ( Read more... )

Were I a shop, I suppose I would be a flower shop; a nursery.
Useless to the purposes and understanding of man.

I'm scared ( Read more... )

I think I'm developing this sick obsession with work.

I fucking love it, I'm excited to go tomorrow.

...Enter empowerment and the excitement that comes with the new hormonal cycle.

Damn, it's like a crazy high of sorts.
I'm gonna go do something.

I'm home.

I cut my hair.
I had Sam read a book.
I made a definitive statement.
I met a man that danced ballet.

Overall, though it may not seem so, I feel my day was pretty productive.

Maybe I just like to point out the forbidden, but if the six members of us (my family) were simultaneously killed, our nearest relatives hardly know who we are. Even more alarming, no one would know who to notify for a very, very long time.
Is that just me, or does it seem very alone to you?

Ever had a dream that, while you can't remember any events of this dream, the feeling still lingers, leaving you feeling troubled for no reason? Yeah, it's gonna be one of those days ( Read more... )