forgot

crap

last march

I'll put a spell on you
You'll fall asleep
When I put a spell on you
And when I wake you
I'll be the first thing you see
And you'll realize that you love me


ah, love. subject of many bittersweet fantasies. poignant dreams based on nothing, knowledge culled from the ramblings of others. must it always be hard?

Well. Perhaps it is obvious I have a touch of the melancholy. It pays me a visit every now and then, and, as with an old friend, I welcome it both with open arms and a sinking feeling that I may still be stuck with it however far apart we drift.

More later

mmm...cake...

yeah, that's about the gist of it

will i regret this in the morning

Well, will I? It seems as though I always regret showing anyone a part of myself, which is why every one of my closer acquaintances has a little part of me that none of the others does; and no one the whole.
Hence it seems a logical step to break out of the shell spectacularly and tell the whole world about every bowel movement. Welcome to my life, strangers.











I still think I'll regret this in the morning

the first one

So all my life I have been writing. And here are these people who call their ramblings blogs and tell you all about themselves. I want a blog. But I refuse to tell you anything other than that.