I wrote this as a response to keiths stupendous post
but then i decided to post it here as well.
Walking into the yearbook room. no one ever really was doing their work until 6 pm the night after deadline, except that livejournal lit every screen. then the principal did the most perverse thing anyone would ever imagine. banning the social lives of the entire student body, what good is high school now? but few either cant comform or are slow in catching on to the most trivial thing to hit the screen. its old. people dont care to write. journaling is for pansies, we need images, illusions, happiness in a toy box, wrap it up and show the world that its the toy you never really play with.
lets pretend we travel the world and then hate those that do. call them traitors. who the fuck leaves the friends? im never getting married. fuck kids, fuck ourselves but not the kids, we dont want kids.
reverting back to the whole point of this, from far away you were made of marble and i couldnt come close. i was intimidated by your dulled glow. gosh you were brilliant (purposeful irony, I'm not stupid) and you probably would have been hauty and i would have bought it.
the sun set and the stars clibed up the clouds, but you climbed up my wall and the stars fell on our eyes. journaling is for the thinkers, the reflectors, the sharers and conquerors. the idea of the chicken came before the egg. and so through time things somtimes become casual but you still shimmer.
Walking into the yearbook room. no one ever really was doing their work until 6 pm the night after deadline, except that livejournal lit every screen. then the principal did the most perverse thing anyone would ever imagine. banning the social lives of the entire student body, what good is high school now? but few either cant comform or are slow in catching on to the most trivial thing to hit the screen. its old. people dont care to write. journaling is for pansies, we need images, illusions, happiness in a toy box, wrap it up and show the world that its the toy you never really play with.
lets pretend we travel the world and then hate those that do. call them traitors. who the fuck leaves the friends? im never getting married. fuck kids, fuck ourselves but not the kids, we dont want kids.
reverting back to the whole point of this, from far away you were made of marble and i couldnt come close. i was intimidated by your dulled glow. gosh you were brilliant (purposeful irony, I'm not stupid) and you probably would have been hauty and i would have bought it.
the sun set and the stars clibed up the clouds, but you climbed up my wall and the stars fell on our eyes. journaling is for the thinkers, the reflectors, the sharers and conquerors. the idea of the chicken came before the egg. and so through time things somtimes become casual but you still shimmer.