brought to you by baby jesus
still enjoying livejournal after all this time doesn't make sense... but it just feels so right. kind of like cleaning my closet at 4 in the morning or sitting on the cold wood floor in my unmentionables, reading my old letters, journals and orders to appear in court. ahh, memories. killers. killer memories.
i've realized that the more i talk about my Special Things, the less special they become. i like to hide, i like to hoard my happiness. it can't be common knowledge, it isn't common at all. and when i find something sacred, i won't tell a soul.
tonight, i went on a mission that was doomed from the start. some cars just don't have brakes, and some girls just don't care. some cities don't sell liquor on sundays, and some girls just can't accept that. some cookies get burnt, but most cookies don't ever make it to the oven when this girl is around.
isn't it weird when you miss people that aren't gone? or mourn someone who isn't really dead? it feels bad so what can you do?
i've realized that the more i talk about my Special Things, the less special they become. i like to hide, i like to hoard my happiness. it can't be common knowledge, it isn't common at all. and when i find something sacred, i won't tell a soul.
tonight, i went on a mission that was doomed from the start. some cars just don't have brakes, and some girls just don't care. some cities don't sell liquor on sundays, and some girls just can't accept that. some cookies get burnt, but most cookies don't ever make it to the oven when this girl is around.
isn't it weird when you miss people that aren't gone? or mourn someone who isn't really dead? it feels bad so what can you do?