Aimlessly I dwell


I feel charitable today. Also, its an easy way to get hugs.

Do you hate it when you dont like someone but your friends keep telling you you like that someone and eventually you start thinking about that someone and begin to actually like that someone? I HATE IT.


Thanks for respecting my preferences ya’ll.

Hey mods!

I’ve been dry, out of inspiration recently and I don’t like the feeling. It’s like I have this urge to post something up but I just don’t have any materials to back me up you know? I wonder if this happens to other great aspiring writers.

I’ve been thinking for awhile now about nothing in particular.

I’ve been thinking skipping breakfast everyday probably isnt a good thing considered I feel so damn weak after the ride TO school.

I’ve been thinking of going out, splurging on everything I see on an impulse.

I’ve been thinking of my dad recently.

I’ve been thinking about the weather and how I like it when Im alone in my room wearing baggy sweat pants and my hoodie, listening to the raindrop through the open window and smelling the cold air and all I need is my pen and paper.

I’ve been thinking of  Freddie Stroma (dont ask me why), alot.

I’ve been thinking I’m quietly reciting my lines in the hidden auditorium of my skull about the poet boyfriend(read below) that I have absolute no faith that he exists because face it, now, one is only skin deep.

I’ve been thinking how much I actually hate people.

I’ve been thinking of a clusterfuck of things that has been going in/at school.

I need inspiration.




The Poet Boyfriend:

An alpha male who shoots daggers with his words.  An emotional, depressing lad who has this shade of dark aura seeping through his fingertips. Someone who isnt afraid to show his emotions.  His smile is ice cold and his gaze, intense. Someone who’s so drunk he doesnt speak. Someone with passion for his art.

P.P.S No, girls and boys, I did not just describe a whiny ass emo boy who spends way too much time prepping his hair with aerosol death spray and teasing it so he could look ‘Unique’ and ‘Different’ and who’s poems and material revolves around him, how unfair the world is, how he ran out of eyeliner and how he wants to end his life. There’s a fine line between the poet boyfriend and an emo boyfriend.


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