Hi guys and the internet.

Things are kinda fucked right now. Ever just want to not be around anymore? I feel I have felt everything that this life has had to offer. No, that doesnt mean im satisfied. Then what? Its a weird time to be growing up, I think. Information travels so fast. You can see anything you want from a backlit screen. As transportation evolves, cultures can move around the globe and hisory from thousands of years is avalable for free at your fingertips. I can learn anything as fast as my brain can process it.

My point is, theres just not as much need to explore anymore. Unpopular opinion #1. I dont find culture that interesting and im trying to feel bad about it but I cant. IM SORRY. My parents werent rich and I didnt get to go on all these crazy vacations growing up. Bullshit, mane. Yes, that was a small personal attack on someone.

I do love this earth, and its a pretty cool place. But what else is there? What is the next adventure? The final frontier…

At least I got my pink slips and paid today mothafuckas

That feeling when you find out the girl you like has a fuck buddy. #joshproblems

So it’s gonna be one of THOSE days…

>In Superstore poppin dem tags

>Dem quick oats, dem apples, dem coffee beans.

>Go to pay for everything

>Only a couple tills open. Bettergetcomfy.jpeg

>Spy Alberta certified qt3.14 working the till a few down.

>Shes got a strange style, big minnie mouse esque bow headband.

>QT gettin my attention

>She looks up, makes eye contact. Ohshitohshitohshit better look away.

>QT comes over to my checkout till to relieve current girl.

>Her nametag says Mikala. Primary spaghetti containment starts to rupture.

>Make eye contact again. She smiles. At this point I have no control over my actions.

>Right brain: This is your chance, broski. Tell her she’s cute! Left brain: 01110100100101001101010010110001001001010011101001010010

>Body temperature gets uncomfortably hot. Poppin molly im sweatin.

>She says “Hey!”. Blackout.

>Wake up in car, groceries bagged in the passenger seat.

>Drive home.

>The end.

Stuck with this phage, he is silent and passive.
A highway of a thousand thoughts processed every second
But never speak out.
She haunts him. What will she think of me?
In return, maybe he haunts her. She lies in bed, “What did he think of me?”
He is the abandonned house, now weathered and withered
With its stories kept within its walls.
He keeps his thoughs of her close and quiescent
As winter whispers to the wilted house, “You may bleed, but do to else…nothing”

Man, sometimes I wish I could take grade 7-9 language arts classes again. I remember the textbooks we got, that were just filled with bizzare short stories. Looking back, those things were awesome. I never realized how much I enjoyed writing about them. I was so interested in writing back then. It was something that never really blossomed, I suppose.

Its not like I ever wanted to be a professional writer or anything, I just wanted to be able to write professionally. If I could outlet all the feelings in my head onto some sort or media that other people could easily understand, I think my mind would have a lot less weight on it. But I’m trying. And I’ll keep trying.