i'm young,

and inevitably impressionable.
which is pathetic, undoubtedly.

have you ever heard the saying, "If they write about it, they're not doing it" ? bet you haven't, cause i just made that up. haha. but it's actually true, especially if those so-called "it"s are, umm, fiendish. seriously, who writes about how they dominantly devoured someone in bed, or how awakened they felt from the copious blood loss from wrist-slitting, or the ecstatic feeling of the last joint they smoked, or the burning sensation from the excessive valium intakes to fight the gnawing pain of Inferno Pepper Pot craving? who writes about these things? i'll tell you who, people who serve their mouthfuls of crap with hot sauce but can't even handle shoving all those crap back down their throats. in intelligible english, that means people who boast about the deviant things they want to do but are actually elusive on the execution part.

and i think i'm one of those people.
which in my case is actually a relief, because i write but i don't do.
so here it is, i really want to light that nicotine stick up and suck all the sweet-smelling smoke deep down into my alveolus until i'm high above that i can't possibly find a way to land safely on the ground.

i'm just writing. =)


oh, by the way,
HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY 18TH BDAY TO MY DESKMATE LINA!!
in 3 months i'll be leaving adolescence and joining you in adulthood. weehoo.