We're all wasted

I'm not entirly sure I understand the world.

The thing is, I don't know if I like who I am.

The Thing is, what am I going to do about it?

I know how the world works...but much like physics and all things mathmatical, i do not know why.

I cherish my friends emmensly.

I have a tendcy to open my mouth too much.

Wayne has become one of the many perks of driving. Waving to him and knowning he'll wave back is comforting. A constant in the form of a man in nightrobe in a bench. He's more friendly then the overweight women who walk there doxhounds around the block.

I think a lot about death. Not necessarly mine

Her indescretions benfit my social life.

Sometimes I wonder what the hell I've done moments after I've done it. Why do ideas go from being logical moves forward to "BWUAH!?" in less then 2seconds?

Its weird. I was upset and we sat on the stairs leading up to your door for an hour nad talked. Suddenly, I relize there is nothing enherntly wrong in what your doing, its just what you gotta do. I gotta let you do it.

I hate your hair. And now your sick. And we hugged. And recently, I've been sneezing, I thought these fun things were over with.

Once again, I don't understand.

This collective sigh is merly teenage angst. It need not be remembered or documented.
Yet I document