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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| Can't wait to move out. Fuck this. No wonder I dormed.
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| As I was watching Wall E today, I have to admit that I cried twice. I knew I would end up crying because the beginning of the story set it up. How the Earth was a waste land with nothing resembling growth or life.
It makes me wonder what would happen if we continue to pollute the
earth, would it be a grave yard or a waste land or both? Where would we
escape to? to space? Excuse me while I scoff.
Oh, or how Wall E was happy collecting material he admired even though he was all alone.
Wall E. Pure unadulterated innocence. The beauty of love represented in this adorable miniature sized animated robot.
I guess I'm easily choked up when someone, so willing, gives it their all no matter if they continue to fail.
And looking at dinosaurs today, I always wondered, what if we end up like the dinosaurs? Extinct? How do we know when some cosmic catastrophe will befall us? Will living life forms be digging our bones up in a few million years?
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Today I wanted to press my lips against you and tell you and tell you and tell you and tell you and tell you. Tell you over and over and over as tingles ran down my body because th giro st lefti.
I knew it then. But I'll never say the words.
Because there's always that 1% chance that "what if" will come true.
My writing is rusty. For a good ten minutes, I was trying to think of a good simile, but finally gave up.
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| Why don't you press the cuts closer to your face so that you can enjoy the pain and pleasure of it all.
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| I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive. I wish you were alive.
I wish you were alive
for 17 years of my life.
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| I want to preserve who I am.
I can't get caught up in the hype of being someone's girlfriend, even though it's my first real stab at being one. I forget that I have goals I want to accomplish before summer is over. Even before work, my achieving these goals looked bleak, like running, but especially now, it feels like my hands are full with you and work. I love spending time with puss and boots, and I like getting money, but I feel like it's too much, too much of me. I miss writing and lately I haven't spend any time writing or reading. I miss me and what that entails.
We need to stop rushing into things. I'll stop pushing for things, okay? | | |
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