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i'm sitting here, alone and unloved, and wondering if bea arthur is or is not really a man.
and i could be in algebra right now.
point: i can't break something i don't have.
i hate the smell of panic.
y'know, it's amazing what philisophical truths are revealed in a mere steak and shake. god bless cheese fries....and joyce the waitress, you have my eternal gratitude
I'm sorry, to everyone, i am so sorry for everything that i will never do to hurt you.
"do you want me to reject you? i can't reject you---you're too quick for me."
why is it that i can't speak my own words in the only forum i feel i have any grasp of?
you tell me.
what if i want to be taken in front of a piano?
i love love love love love love love me some ducks. quack quack quack.
the name of this font is microstile----the second greatest written characters in creation.
a little wisdom for the wise: i cannot help my faults, and there are many (whoa)but i also know that you can't help yours either, but I DON'T CARE. i want you to love me despite EVERY FUCKING THING that i know i have wrong with me, and i will love you despite every thing that is wrong with you. quack.
" he liked my shoes, i kept them on... "
" sometimes i can hold my tongue, sometimes not, when you just skip-to-loo my darlin'... "
" no one's that brave, except in movies and on television. "
i wonder if a woman still feels like a woman after a mastectome. i'd ask my grandmother but she died of breast cancer almost five years ago. the whole reason of my passion is because of her, and i thank her every day for that.
despite what you'll continue to think, everything will eventually be all right.
hope is like anything else---if you don't believe in it, it may as well not exist.
