"Wake up, Wake up Madeline, Wake up god damnit". . . "Madeline. . . Sweetheart, It was only a dream."

Brice is my happy medium.

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Emotionconsistency.

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Lucky lighter. A 40. Revolver. A tent. The hollows. 100 dollar bills. Leather suitcase. Typewriter. Whiskey. Vogue magazine. Fiction. Fairytales, fables. Ammunition. Ferrari. Inheritance. Cigarettes. Sustinance. Dreams. Compact Discs. Un l'eau minerale. Rain. Goodbye putrid sky. Photography. Velvet dresses. Coats. European atlas. Cherry chapstick. ( Read more... )

Seize the clouds, corrupt my day. No light peeked through this vast array of grey. No bird doth sing hither thier nest. Likewise no feeling doth clamour so hard as the one upon my chest.

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This is an onslaught of every ferocious emotion.

AMOROUS.

I got shot down. But freedom is only inches away. I imagine I can grag my bloodied corpse those few inches. Hey I made it this far.

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Good-bye ugly metal shackles. You will not be missed.

Im escaping from prison tonight. I hope I don't get shot down.

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UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

hi everyone, this is tia, and i just made madeline this journal, and it took forever. but doesnt it look soooooo damn hotttt tay.

I LOVE YOU MELON HEAD. WATER FAUCET FREAKKKKKKKKK!jk