All I can think are selfish thoughts.

I feel like my brain is exploding with all the things I'm forgetting to say.

I can't sleep cuz my bed's on fire

i just love this picturrrre

Neon Pink Tights & Working Title Radio

I will always like the same kind of music. New bands, new sounds, but at the end of the day I'm sitting here wearing neon tights and listening to The Working Title radio... anyway, I'm reminded of all these good ole tunes I loved in high school and hearing some I've never heard but that sound like everything I love. It's a good life. Now, if only I could get this paper done... or all of them.

Now you're better than you think you are,

show these people what you were born to do.

'Cause I believe in you

I'd bet my life on you.

Forget the awful words they said,

lost your dream,

they lost their heads.

It's funny what fear does to you.

:)

Boys speak in rhythm, and girls in code do-do-do-do!

"I suffer depression only in the sense that I am a writer. We don't have proper jobs to go to. We are on our own all day. Show me a writer who doesn't get depressed: who has a completely stable mood. They'd be a garage mechanic or something. Anyway, I don't think you become a writer unless you are aware of the workings of your mind."

-Mark Haddon

HA!

I didn't know I needed to see you and talk to you until I did... until there was a face and a hug and desperation. But I did. I needed to say those things out loud to you and I needed to be able to ask you those questions and I needed to know I could talk to you about him. I needed to know there was still a friendship there, that we aren't like everyone else, that we were different, and that we can still remember how to talk without words. I am forever grateful to you for teaching me how to notice the details in the fabric and the value of the second. I remember everything, I see everything, I thank God for unconditional love and the art of acceptance. Friday night was one of the most intense and important nights I've had in a while just because I was reassured of the beauty in every inch and the promise in every moment.

And then Saturday, an adult woman asked me if I really believe that everything happens for a reason and I shook my head and told her that it is ever so much deeper than that.

I have tried to be sensitive to this for a long time but I realize now I've done something so wrong. I can't change it. It had to happen this way. I had to be this way. But I need to step up. I just wish I knew how to help you.

"Well, I'll take these pages and move on. Things are happening elsewhere. Things are always happening. It seems wherever I go there is drama. People are like lice - they get under your skin and bury themselves there. You scratch and scratch until the blood comes, but you can't get permanently deloused. Everywhere I go people are making a mess of their lives. Everyone has his private tragedy. It's in the blood now - misfortune, ennui, grief, suicide. The atmosphere is saturated with disaster, frustration, futility. Scratch and scratch, until there's no skin left. However, the effect upon me is exhilarating. Instead of being discouraged or depressed, I enjoy it. I am crying for more and more disasters, for bigger calamities, grander failures. I want the whole world to be out of whack, I want every one to scratch himself to death."

-Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer