| ya tu sabe |
[Dec. 1st, 2009|09:24 pm] |
i'm getting an a in american lit
i'm hella hella nervous about modern british lit & islam paper & finals- agh!
i cannot wait to get out of miami. i'm really looking forward to living in tallahassee, but i'm afraid of living with girls.
blablabla. |
|
|
| bro |
[May. 22nd, 2009|12:13 am] |
|
this is love. this is it. its easier and more complicated than you can possibly imagine. even the bad times are good in a way. i'm an optimist, sure, but there's no need to trudge through a complex, dramatic delusion with him. there's no need to pretend he's something he's not. he is. i am. we are. in LOVE. |
|
|
| your mom goes to college |
[Dec. 5th, 2008|04:15 pm] |
| [ | de la musique |
| | fleet foxes- he doesn't know why | ] |
i really want to go see no age and panda bear tonight. kanyay's getting me in. and i'm tired. and i haven't finished my paper. and i have to study for math. and shit shit shit. |
|
|
| heh |
[Nov. 20th, 2008|02:09 pm] |
| [ | la mood |
| |  sick | ] |
| [ | de la musique |
| | dddiiipppllloooo | ] |
i'm tired, i'm sick, i'm worried about financial things, my car insurance, the paper i haven't started, but i'm freakin' dandy. you aren't an added pressure.
i'd forgotten what happy feels like.
chuch |
|
|
| incubus manifests my introversions. judge me. |
[Sep. 28th, 2008|11:13 am] |
| [ | de la musique |
| | postmail- hey moon | ] |
don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
'Cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my heart I swear
I've tried everything I could within all my power
Two weeks and one hour I slaved
And now I've got nothing to show
Oh if only you'd grow taller than a brick wall
From now on, gonna start holding my breath
When you come around
And you flex that fake grin
'Cause something inside me has said more than twice
That breathing LESS air beats breathing you in, oh
I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
'Cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
Hand over my mouth, I'm earning the right to my silence
In quiet discerning between ego and timing
Good judgment is once again proving to me
That it's still worth it's weight in gold
From now on I'm gonna be so much more wary
When you start to speak and my warm blood starts to boil
Seeing you is like pulling teeth
And hearing your voice is like chewing tin foil
I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
'Cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground
High fives to better judgment
By saying less today, I will gain more, gain more
Low twos to you my, my fickle friend
You, you, you who brought the art of silent war
I don't wanna talk to you anymore
I'm afraid of what I might say
I bite my tongue every time you come around
'Cause blood in my mouth beats
Blood on the ground |
|
|
| dear el jay |
[Sep. 7th, 2008|12:57 pm] |
| [ | la mood |
| |  aggravated | ] |
wtfwtfwtfwtfwtf |
|
|
| being a slut |
[Aug. 13th, 2008|11:04 pm] |
| [ | la mood |
| | annoyed | ] |
| [ | de la musique |
| | honey- the hush sound | ] |
is indie. is hip. is cool. making out with girls, for the entertainment of pigs, is hip. is cool. selling yourself, not for money, but for attention is hip. is cool. where was i? i never got that memo. the one where you are required to stop having a soul by age 17. start having sex before you understand it, start having illicit sex before you even know what you're doing. reading cosmo for tips to keep him turned on! reading self to obsess over the bodies of people who spend their entire day in a gym, something you will never have the luxury of doing or need to do.
having boyfriends or girlfriends or both or several of both is hip. is cool. and not caring about anyone is the norm. not having conversations with anyone but those listed on your cell phone contacts is hip. is cool. i wonder what college was like before cell phones. i wonder what the world was like. i can't remember it. everyone is ALWAYS on the phone. ALWAYS. either their thumbs are about to fall off from text messaging overloads or their larynx is about to commit suicide from sustaining hours of verbal bile. they're probably talking to someone they don't care about. or someone they want to just have "fun" with. they're driving their suburbans with their bleach blonde streaks and large sunglasses on the phone. they talk so much. they say nothing.
i was not meant for this era. whenever i start to think about it, (think. remember what that means?) i become more convinced. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Apr. 16th, 2008|04:23 pm] |
|
procrast...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................inate |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
thefloorman's journal
