fuck_d up
nothing really here, i bring with myself. these red and white candies are the only things in my backpack. the books- non-existant. the pens, all evicted. the thoughts, no longer thoughtful. just bitchy truths. at least it's not bullshit, althought that would sometimes be better. these scornful convictions emerge form the crescent-shaped smile. all coming out so honestly. all coming out so crooked. it's all so mixed around and satisfying. i dont let the lows affect me much differently from the good news. but there's not much happiness in either. the better is simply mildly aggravating. the lows are simply the antithesis of the average american sociological placement of the immature bitches my age. fuck your superceeding dreams, just fess up to the bullshit and it will be better to let off some of that pressure to be perfect, cause we both know that you're not. because i am lower than you, you should take my advice because i do you a favor everyday by giving you something to thank god you are not. i make you look good when i set the bar so low for your success. i give you more leeway to not let you miss the cut-off point. i'll show you cut-off. give me your hand give me your hand you pussy and know that although you are above me, i am below you only creeping, stalking, sucking you of your confidence and security. acknoledge your bias and you shall live, otherwise, i will not take lightly your priviledges.