Lol the guy I like might like me back~

when i was young and foolish i thought Swedish fish were called 'sweetish fish' and Celiac disease was 'silly-act disease'

the perils of being illiterate

(Zorp is 'xcitd'!) 

One of the reasons I love when people comment on my poetry is that I have to go back and read whatever I wrote again. I never do that otherwise. Whenever I try to reread them without the voice of another inserted into them, it just feels cringe and hollow and like another failed leap towards the sky, whilst forgetting I am but a mere human without wings; as if the reader injects all colour and meaning into a portrait of whispers of shadows and grey tones. 

Like, when I reread them on my own I literally have to peel my mind away from everything else I'd rather be doing, and drag it over to painfully watch its book born of love get turned into a sad third-rate and passionless excuse of a movie adaptation. But then again, it reminds me of how meaningless the authorial intent truly is.

No matter how good I strive to be or create, no matter how deeply I long to portray beauty and raw emotion, no matter how long I try: It all amounts to nothing at all without the willing consumption and regurgitation of the audience I have been graced with.

It's kind of absolutely terrifying but still awe-inspiring at the same time.

I get to sing Sister Christian (well, a small part of it, anyway), and hang out with my friends, various acquaintances I'm hoping to get to know better, my crush, and my platonic crush, plus some of my favorite teachers keeping us somewhat under control, in my favorite classroom. All of this wonderfulness will be happening in the span of about an hour, give or take some time, on Monday. That, my friends, is how you cure the Sunday Scaries, which I don't believe I'll be facing tomorrow.

I just realized that I have the maturity of a doorknob.

I go through phases of thirsting for new music as though without it death is imminent, and, alternatively, listening to old songs I know and love so much that they become like worn blankets.

You know when you're talking to someone and they say something that you didn't hear, so you have no idea what they just said? And then they laugh a little at the end so you think, "oh, it must have been a joke or something" so you laugh, too, and then they just look at you weird, and you're like, "oh crap. I guess I wasn't supposed to laugh at that."

...Anyone else wonder if our AEs can mutiny against us and take over our brains...?

I am not sure which surprises me more, the fact that people are faking disorders, or that there are over 70 compilations that are more than 10 minutes.

(Not talking about people on CB just to be clear) 

Sunshine by OneRepublic.

everyone must listen to this amazing song. it can wipe away the deepest depression and calm the most firey mood, fix the most broken day and put a smile on anyone's face.