Im tired. Really tired. That 'I need to keep going, but i'll take a little break to take a nap, smoke a bowl, watch a little movie, and then sleep some more' type of tired. The type of tired that makes you do things that just make you more tired. Like looking at old pictures, listening to good music, and talking to great friends. Those things make you tired. They make you sigh. They make a really mushy, comfy, feather filled blanket look like heaven. They make you think of being little, im always thinking about being little. Im always wanting a little more innocence. Even if its a lie. Maybe im lying sometimes, but i just want to be innocent. Maybe im lying to myself, and I really am innocent. Maybe we'll never really grow up and we'll be those weird adults that our teenage kid's friends talk about behind their back, and they are embarrassed of. I guess we'll see its a blessing, its not a curse. God I love Andy. He just walks in..."Lets look at some really bitchy magazines. Do you have any?" Haha. And then he starts talking shit about people who study too much. We agreed that the more we study, the more we dont give a shit. We would rather stare at the wall than study anymore. At what point can you just say 'fuck it' and just enjoy your life?
If you dont like my fire, then dont come around. Because im gonna burn one down.
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