(procrastinating briefly from my history essay outline)

which is for tomorrow’s in-class practice essay (but I am progressing and I have a plan of a plan, so.)

 gave me this idea: if you want me to send you a letter (and for those people who know that I will want to send you a Christmas/New Year’s card), please comment & leave your address :D! Comments will be screened, so only I’ll be able to see them HENCE YOUR PRIVACY IS WELL-GUARDED.

This mix I am listening to; also, before, go check out Bowl of Oranges by Bright Eyes (initially, I was just purely intrigued by how much the opening sounds like Panic at the Disco!, but not really; I really like Bright Eyes):

So that is how I learned the lesson that everyone is alone. And your eyes must do some raining if you are ever going to grow. But when crying don’t help and you can’t compose yourself, it’s best to compose a poem, an honest verse of longing or a simple song of hope. And that’s why I’m singing, "Baby, don’t worry, cause now I got you back. And every time you feel like crying, I’m gonna try and make you laugh. And if I can’t, if it just hurts too bad, then we will wait for it to pass, and I will keep you company through those days so long and black. And we’ll just keep working on the problem we know we’ll never solve, of Love’s uneven remainder, our lives are fractions of a whole."

But if the world could remain within a frame like a painting on a wall. Then I think we would see the beauty then. We would stand staring in awe at our still lives posed like a bowl of oranges, like a story told by the fault lines and the soil.

And an amazing poem (trigger for familial death); nothing about myself because I’m not sure quite what to say, right now. I have to be at least 18 years of age to get a tattoo here in Canada.


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