I ate a Butterfinger once. It gave me Butterhiney.
Ah, the first subject I've written in years. Time to flex these creative muskles. Hi. To me. I'm a bit lost at the moment. Relationship over. Kinda my fault. Well, OUR fault. Nevermind. Anyway, five years of every emotion known to man, and an obliterated soul is what's left. I guess I have to pick up the pieces, but I don't really know how. This is what I wanted? It would appear so. Time to work on me. Of course, she's already working on SOMEONE ELSE. Kill me now. First entry in a few years. How was it?