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Dear Miss Tragedy
You're not really a tragedy. They lied to you and you ARE allowed to smile at the sun. Stare at it while you're at it and blind yourself with beauty. Because chewing on toothpicks doesn't really make you look tough so you may as well drop that title.
I like to call them mind wars...
The ghettos made up from the adams in my brain- they're all quite poor- ambling in hopes to somehow escape, scheming and conniving the most detailed plots knowing that it doesn't hurt to run. If you trip? Well, that's when you start thinking of your next plan and moving on from failure. It took me 19 years to figure out this process. They are plotting too- they all are!
Look at them---
Headphones dangling from their pierced ears. The louder the music is the deeper they are planning their escape. When they look half dead and bored, don't fall for it! That is only an act to make you believe they are not a threat. Trust me, they have this bus route memorized perfectly.
I hate how loud the clock ticks
It makes me feel skitsofrenic and awkward. And yes i can't spell but normalicy is stubborn, telling you that if you twitch or itch you're screwed to imperfection. But sometimes i put mousse in my hair to make it do something different...i twitch alot...
