| love songs for lesser beingswake up warm up
a lisp on your lips
your hands cold
clammy
sweaty
blue marks on your skin
are they really there? fuck-
laugh until you cry- i'msorryican'tstop
fuck, can they tell?
they can tell
why do they look so normal?
i am not acting normal
calm down
cam down
god- i think i'm gaining weight
am i gaining weight?
shit i used to be so pretty
you're still pretty
shut up
i want to dance
don't
i want to play
don't
laugh until you cry
I'M SORRY, I CAN'T STOP
it wasn't even that funny
this
needs
to
stop
before i go under
or am i already there? which way is up?
which was is out?
home?
well,
where the FUCK
is that?
rampant materialism. casual use. it doesn't even taste good going down...
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| Boy, those wings are made of wax.
I'm 18. I move in at Oglethorpe Saturday morning. I'm going to approximately a thousand concerts this fall. I have a new job- Mellow Mushroom Brookhaven, off of Peachtree Road by North Druid Hills. I work a lot. I love my friends. My car is acting up- the brakes sound like dying seals and it was sputtering last night after work.
Today and Thursday are the only days I have left to pack and get ready to go. I haven't even started yet, and here I am: sitting on xanga for the first time in a month. You can find me elsewhere. Good luck!
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| Just so you know, I'm doing the same damn thing. Fuck you.
On a lighter note, I love...
A) Xiomar...
B) and Kate
Oh, now I want watermelon. |
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| I'm on facebook. Find me. |
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