(no subject)
i dont like how this journal makes me come across. and sometimes it makes me want to abandon it, and sometimes i think fuck it, because most of the time i honestly dont give a shit. right now is one of the i-dont-give-a-shit times, but about fifteen minutes ago it was the other way around. whatever.
i saw the man i want to marry on the bus. well. he must have been a fifty-something year old sikh man, but still. i cant even describe, i wish i had gotten a picture.
this man was amazing; so well dressed. he was wearing a pink turban and had the greatest mustache ever -- he had turned up the corners so perfectly and symmetrically. his suit was also perfect and his shirt was even just a couple shades lighter than the turban -- everything was just so in place.
anyway, my brother is pissing me the fuck off so peace out.
i saw the man i want to marry on the bus. well. he must have been a fifty-something year old sikh man, but still. i cant even describe, i wish i had gotten a picture.
this man was amazing; so well dressed. he was wearing a pink turban and had the greatest mustache ever -- he had turned up the corners so perfectly and symmetrically. his suit was also perfect and his shirt was even just a couple shades lighter than the turban -- everything was just so in place.
anyway, my brother is pissing me the fuck off so peace out.