A l o n eEvery time I look around to see who I've got left, and I find no one.
Who do I turn to when everybody's gone?
| Greetings and salutations! I'm not really anything incredible, to say the least. Just your regular old teenage girl. I have crushes, I have friends and best friends, hobbies and interests, I deal with drama on a daily basis, I go to school. The whole sha-bang. I tend to talk too much for my own good. So sorry if I blurt out something offensive. My mouth runs faster than my brain can keep up with, so sometimes it's just hard for me to keep something’s from spewing out of my mouth. I like music a lot. I play the guitar. I'm not the greatest in the world, seeing as I'm still learning, but I'd love to play you a tune sometime. My favorite color at the moment is green and I love dark chocolate. I love to READ. I love to love. I love to give love. I hate my body, so don't tell me that I'm not fat, or ugly, because I won't believe you. It's a girl thing. I'll be mean to you, but it’s only because I want to be with you. I like to hold hands, and give hugs. I want to be in a place where it's like second grade again; everyone is friends with everyone. I try my best to make everyone as happy as possible, despite myself, and it would be my greatest failure if I couldn't do that. I get jealous very easily, but I'm working on that. I want to get to know you a little better, just talk to me sometime. Oh yeah, I'm Tori, btw. Pleasure to meet you |
Neglect
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"Thank you for being this morning's farmer."
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"Love stories are written in millimeters and milliseconds with a fast, dull pencil whose marks you can barely see. They are written in miles and eons with a chisel on the side of a mountaintop."
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So where were the spiders?
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i tend to wander down the wrong rabbit hole quite frequently.
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ohhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...!
Haven't talked to you much this year. How's it doing?
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We are a movement, but we will never be a scene.
[link]
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"I look at you, and I'm home" - Dory
Here ya go, hun:
After Great Pain . . . .
After great pain a formal feeling comes—
The nerves sit ceremonious like tomb;
The stiff Heart questions—was it He that bore?
And yesterday—or centuries before?
The feet mechanical
Go round a wooden way
Of ground or air or Ought, regardless grown,
A quartz contentment like a stone.
This is the hour of lead
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow—
First chill, then stupor, the letting go.
Emily Dickinson
During your ruff times, you should always know that someone will be there for you to
. . .If it's not too presumptuous of me
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"I look at you, and I'm home" - Dory
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