For the first time in a long time, I actually feel like updating something with meaning. Not just with pictures or a stupid sentence about how I saw my boyfriend. Whether or not you get the meaning, is another story. I like to write for me, not for people's pleasure.



It seems as though looking back on things,
is when you realize their reality.
Everything sky rockets, then plummets.
And it all seems too common.
When no effort is put forth, no progress will be made.
In either direction.



It's how you make a terrible day better,
just by calling to say, "Hi."



Chelsi is a really good person to talk to. She listens, understands, but most importantly; doesn't already have an opinion on something when she doesn't know the whole story. I respect that. I respect her. And besides us being beasts at spanish, we have the most meaningful conversations I've had with a friend in a while. We're going to hangout soon and just talk. I'm excited.



You're loud and obnoxious. More people hate you than you could ever imagine. And your friends all talk shit on you. I guess life is good, right? You have the right to open your mouth about anyone at all? Nah.





alone on a train, aimless in wonder.
an outdated map crumbled in my pocket.
but i didn't care where i was going,
cause they're all different names for the same place.