My back really itches. So much, in fact, that I want to take some sort of medieval blow torch and sear the skin off my shoulders and upper back.
dont thinkabout it dont think about it dont think about it dont thinkaboutitdontthinkaboutit.
I smell like papayas. So much in fact that I want to take a huge bite out of myself.
Not really.
I also cannot write anymore. have you noticed? every word that shoots out of my fingers is dull, and every . and , and ! and ? is meaningless and tired and trite.
scratchscratchscratchscratch....
i want the future so badly.
change makes me nervous and anxious and sad and happy and insane.
which makes getting to future a little bit difficult.
FLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
