Mind vomit. Because for some reason, i sometimes think in poetic meter

Let the boys play their games of politics and sex
While the girls get told that 'father knows best'
The old ways must die before we'll be let in
To their smoke-rooms, cigars and sleaze-filled grins

I should sleep, but I don't dream here.

I've been thinking a lot of things lately.

Mostly that I don't know how to say them anymore.

There's a hole in my soul. And it's filled with so many things. But none of it is enough because there's nothing to hold it all together. And I shiver because the wind blows through it and I can feel the cold in my bones.

I fucking miss the York-hi.

Not high school, not York. Just the York-hi and its fabulous, mercurial and hilarious staff.

just saying

I like how we're still so much in each other's lives. I mean, we don't all talk everyday, or have to know every detail, but we're still interested in the same things that brought us together in the beginning, and it still works like it used to.

I appreciate y'all.