... great.
So I reread one of the many journals I had during high school.
Dated: 3/21/2003 "Confusion"
Confusion dwells in the minds that look from side to side. It also dwells in the pot embodied brain trying to figure out what you say. Laughing at the statements and frowning at the jokes. The brain goes beyond that and thinks of ways to get the alarm off the pants. Give me some X I wanna dance the night away to tempting beats that make me sweat like I was having the greatest fuck known to mankind with some strange girl. Secrets are on the bathroom walls along with my number. HIV is my problem. The barricade against bare skin. So instead I ramble on like I was coked up hoping to prevent the premature baby. All the do's and don'ts never truly get you through life, so follow the smoke coming from the bathroom just in case mom and dad get home. I have a theory of being at your brightest when you're so dull so take a pull than another and party like it's '99. Jesus help my soul before it rots away from society surrounded by the threats caused by confusion.
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Like what the fuck? Should I just burn old shit that embarrasses me or makes me sound like slat? And writing "HIV is my problem"?? First off I don't have that or any STDs and if I could scan those proofs right now I would. But seriously- thank god I don't think and write like that. Or perhaps smoke weed that much anymore. Oh those teenage years how I wish I could erase you and start from scratch.
Besides the few that make you think I had drug/sex addictions the rest were about finding true mostly dedicated to the two guys I spent most of high school crying about.
So not only do I read as a drug/sex addict but also as a passionate romantic dedicated to them.
I guess some things never change.
::sigh::
alright now on to youporn.
So I reread one of the many journals I had during high school.
Dated: 3/21/2003 "Confusion"
Confusion dwells in the minds that look from side to side. It also dwells in the pot embodied brain trying to figure out what you say. Laughing at the statements and frowning at the jokes. The brain goes beyond that and thinks of ways to get the alarm off the pants. Give me some X I wanna dance the night away to tempting beats that make me sweat like I was having the greatest fuck known to mankind with some strange girl. Secrets are on the bathroom walls along with my number. HIV is my problem. The barricade against bare skin. So instead I ramble on like I was coked up hoping to prevent the premature baby. All the do's and don'ts never truly get you through life, so follow the smoke coming from the bathroom just in case mom and dad get home. I have a theory of being at your brightest when you're so dull so take a pull than another and party like it's '99. Jesus help my soul before it rots away from society surrounded by the threats caused by confusion.
---------------
Like what the fuck? Should I just burn old shit that embarrasses me or makes me sound like slat? And writing "HIV is my problem"?? First off I don't have that or any STDs and if I could scan those proofs right now I would. But seriously- thank god I don't think and write like that. Or perhaps smoke weed that much anymore. Oh those teenage years how I wish I could erase you and start from scratch.
Besides the few that make you think I had drug/sex addictions the rest were about finding true mostly dedicated to the two guys I spent most of high school crying about.
So not only do I read as a drug/sex addict but also as a passionate romantic dedicated to them.
I guess some things never change.
::sigh::
alright now on to youporn.
