ten_th

Pop punk makes me way too happy.

HI I'M NOT DEAD I PROMISE. THIS IS MY PROMISING FACE.

UPDATES:

1. I can has boyfriend! Named Chris.  Whut. Also totally in love with said boy, again, more whut. I am extremely crazily happy. If I fuck up, I will be sadface. Oh Jesus.

2. I'm a junior! And I'm going to college! I'm totally in love with my western civ teacher, he is a silver fox.  We are going to have an affair, mmm.

3. SARA WOZNIAK.

4. I'm going to Homecoming with Emilie. :D

Oh high school.

Well, I'm hot. So be me?

Good luck to y'all that aren't me.

You figure it out.

Me: ...And love only lasts for so long.

Chris: Nah. It lasts forever.

Happiness. Love. A loft in Seattle or Portland.  A white board covered in notes about plans and lists and appointments and questions about who is going to do errends in exchange for cleaning the house.  Closets full of coats and old, too-big hoodies and vintage dresses along with American Eagle jeans and flannel. 

Books.  On the floor, on the shelves, on the coffee table.  Coffee in the freezer and no-gurt in the fridge.  Old flyers and concert tickets from when I was in middle school fading yellow in a shoe box under the bed, pages of your Study Bible for Teens! In the box next to it.

A pug named Piggy.

Olympian food, which is Asian cuisine and coffee. I don't know how this come about in this town, but there's a coffee shop and a Asian restaurant on every block.

May I never leave home.

When I grow up, I want to be Amanda Palmer. I can't sing or play piano, but a girl can dream, yes? I can start a folk-punk band and write all the lyrics and learn how to play keyboard and make someone else sing. And in about ten years I can inspire teenage girls across the country to stop shaving and read Manifesta.




My heart is broken, what else can I do?