I'm tired. I'm delirious.
I want a bloodhound when I settle down. If I settle down. If I'm alive during the time in my life in which I would settle down.
The word "hound" holds a special place in my heart. I don't know why, but it just does. Maybe it's because of how I practice it so often. Maybe it's my fixation on Claudio's works...
Cryptic blogs seem to be my forte. I hate it. I'm doing it right now. I talk about myself too much. That's why I can't write, I'm too selfish.
...I'd do anything for her though...
I'm too selfish. I'm too cryptic. I'm too hypocritical. I'm too nothing...
I'm basically just typing at this point. I've been home and awake for 3 hours a day this week and last. That includes the hour and a half I spend at night to myself and the hour and a half I spend every morning getting ready to go to school.
I have no one to talk to anymore. I'm growing more and more paranoid about my best friend day after day. She's definitely out to keep me to herself. I see it in her eyes. My girl is going to realize my obsession. I'm sure of it. She has to. My St. Joes girl seems to be a bit too popular for her own good. Things have gotten weird between us ever since late January. I don't regret what I did though. I'd do it again. Time and time again. She's cute. Everyone I talk to is cute.
My drummer and I have an awkward relationship. He's REALLY good. Better than I am at any of my melodic instruments. I need to be better. I can do better.
My dog is dead. He was stupid, but he was cute. I pretend to miss him at times to get attention. That's selfish of me. There are times when I do truly miss him though. You know, those times when I drop a french fry and shout, "Max come!" so he'd come and eat it up. Those cute eyes. Those droopy ears. I was mean to him. He hated me during his last years. I grew up with him. 16 years of my life. Stupid dog.
What bugs me is when people claim they cut their wrists. Show me the scars, you stupid fuck. No scars? Really? Then I think you just grazed your wrist in your trendy little pusillanimous mannorisms. I've still got my scars from Mel, but thank god those ones are gone from that stupid whore.
I'm tired. I'm delirious.
I want a bloodhound when I settle down. If I settle down. If I'm alive during the time in my life in which I would settle down.
The word "hound" holds a special place in my heart. I don't know why, but it just does. Maybe it's because of how I practice it so often. Maybe it's my fixation on Claudio's works...
Cryptic blogs seem to be my forte. I hate it. I'm doing it right now. I talk about myself too much. That's why I can't write, I'm too selfish.
...I'd do anything for her though...
I'm too selfish. I'm too cryptic. I'm too hypocritical. I'm too nothing...
I'm basically just typing at this point. I've been home and awake for 3 hours a day this week and last. That includes the hour and a half I spend at night to myself and the hour and a half I spend every morning getting ready to go to school.
I have no one to talk to anymore. I'm growing more and more paranoid about my best friend day after day. She's definitely out to keep me to herself. I see it in her eyes. My girl is going to realize my obsession. I'm sure of it. She has to. My St. Joes girl seems to be a bit too popular for her own good. Things have gotten weird between us ever since late January. I don't regret what I did though. I'd do it again. Time and time again. She's cute. Everyone I talk to is cute.
My drummer and I have an awkward relationship. He's REALLY good. Better than I am at any of my melodic instruments. I need to be better. I can do better.
My dog is dead. He was stupid, but he was cute. I pretend to miss him at times to get attention. That's selfish of me. There are times when I do truly miss him though. You know, those times when I drop a french fry and shout, "Max come!" so he'd come and eat it up. Those cute eyes. Those droopy ears. I was mean to him. He hated me during his last years. I grew up with him. 16 years of my life. Stupid dog.
What bugs me is when people claim they cut their wrists. Show me the scars, you stupid fuck. No scars? Really? Then I think you just grazed your wrist in your trendy little pusillanimous mannorisms. I've still got my scars from Mel, but thank god those ones are gone from that stupid whore.
I'm tired. I'm delirious.
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