it’s funny to …

it’s funny to me how you cam sit there and bout such wisdom as “you’re going to regret what you didn’t do and not what you did” when our entire relationship is built by keeping me from doing whatever I feel like. 


I hate people. 


I hate that you’ve become just a person. 


today’s thoughts, coming to you live and in no particular order.

It’s been so long since i have sat/laid/lounged whatever you want to call it, anyway, with a pair of headphones on and drifted away. Since the accident. Broken glass on the pavement, old companions left crumbled and defeated by fate, two objects meeting – neither with their own will – driven. Some fears and ‘almost’s’ are far fresher in memory then we’d really like. 

It’s nice. 

Los Angeles, if you’re curios. 


One of my best friends bought my rx-7 a couple weeks ago, I’m pumped and yet super sad. At least he got it. I want another one so bad already, only I think a 2nd generation, I have always wanted anf FC, so why not?




A lot to think about, not much to do. 

too often my situation, I think. 


New place today, or at least it’s ours today, hopefully be fully moved in shortly. I’m pumped to live back in town, being a half hour away from everything make’s life difficult at times. Those 2 a.m. Mc Donalds cravings? No longer such a great task to achieve and the money saved on gas, oh my, fantastic. $1 cheeseburgers will once again be just that, no longer will I pay $5 (gas included) for a fucking double cheeseburger. Oh, but wait, it’s a McDouble. I want my other piece of cheese, you fuckers. 




I hate this. …

I hate this. 


“I’m getting better” – you’re not.

“let me live” – you just barely are.

“I need to make my own decisions” – I agree, but where have those gotten you?

thoughts of the day.

Dear Rasta,

Thank you for being a friend when I needed you. Thank you for making me laugh so damn often. I can’t say thank you enough. 

I miss you, friend, and if I could find the low life ass hole who drove over you in the driveway ant then just drove off, I would beat them close to death and then leave them maimed for life, because you deserved better. 


I fucking miss you.


excerpts from journals past…:

“Rasta is currently laying on the floor, looking cute as ever. He has one of my socks between his feet, I wish that rat bastard would leave the damn things alone, he loves them far to much and with his ears cocked forward that way he is far to cute for me to scold. Another spoiled. The cute ones always survive, or so I’ve been told.”

“Rasta is now watching ‘Star Wars: The Clone Wars’ with me, it’s pretty chill of him, if I do say so myself. I retract my last statement, he’s now taken interest in you Jenkins, I’m sorry if his curiosity hurts you.” (Jenkins is the name of my laptop, for those curious, don’t judge.)

“+6952+—-Rasta jumped on the keyboard.”


Chase birds until the end of time, my friend.


I fucking love you.


I fucking miss you.








i read what i write later and all I can think is : “quit bitching.” seriously. 


Going to see the FD this weekend, it’ll be nice. 

Glass houses.

I’m losing it, bit by bit.


When you love someone it should matter, it should make a difference, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t change a damn fucking thing. 

Why am I here? Why are you here, dear reader? 


I’m not sure if i get the joke, the punchline makes little to no sense. Stagnant. 


Today was supposed to be a good day.