Reggae?

I'm such a cliche, smoking weed and listening to Bob Marley...I'm going to remember today forever. It's been a reminder of the past and a promise of the future.
It's only in San Diego that your Advanced Biology teacher wears a rasta belt and plays reggae. The culture here is so unique and amazing, I'm gonna miss it....
I've always liked reggae, since I was 5 years old listening to Mandatory Marley on 91X. I even had a Reggae for Kids tape that I listened to over and over again.
I really wish I was raised in a specific culture, because I was raised in so many conflicting cultures that I don't know where I belong; I should just pick one.
If you type in F on youtube it gives you something funnier than the other letters.
And I just realised that our culture is comprised of a bunch of fakes.
And why does everything make more sense when I talk like Yoda? I kinda forget what it's like to be sober, it's like one giant dream.
And M will give you the most random things.
I really can't express how ridiculously (I can't believe I spelled that right being this high) bad that Rebecca Black videos is.
I've discovered that rich kids have this favorite past-time of making dumb music videos.

Don't Forget Me When You Die

Just now have I realised that I've been left behind.
All of my friends went on to be something, anything from actors to scene queens.
But what have I done?
Note much, not nearly enough.

La La Love

I'm bad luck, because everyone drifts away, and all roads lead to Satan's house.
I remember when all the trouble started, but everything feels so right now.
Lady of the cusp between spring and summer.
And I've become the means of a documentary about this strange reality.
Where are we?
I have a feeling that being high gives us less control of destiny.
Hold your tongue, they're starting to get it.
Forgotten things from long ago, I really wish I didn't know.
Is it the sane or devious one this time?
It's all about the ebb and flow.

More Adventures

Maybe I have ADD, or maybe I have multiple personality disorder; which induces ADD.
I'm so far gone, that everything blends together.
I can't believe that there's a Japanese culture club, and that the majority of its members are white males. But that's the name that the anime club got changed to when Fanny left.
And my sensations of waking up are really my personalities switching, The Many Adventures of The Few Bunnies.
100% proof whiskey sends fire down my throat into my stomach.

Random Shit From My Adventures

There are a lot of things that I regret. Like when my mom refused to sign my application for school organizations, I got angry and tore up the application.
Now I'm suffering for the past, but that's okay I'm leaving.
I feel old again, "Back in my day it was punk bands that played at the warped tour" (comments on the hardcore bands that now play on the tour)
And I feel like I'm swimming in a fish tank of grey clouds. Like the sky is pressing down on the earth. And it's funny how certain people re-emerge after long absences.
And I wish that I was in Italy eating puttanesca and drinking grappa in my espresso.
Here I am, ranting....again.
Why is it that the first time that I legitimately vandalize something, that a bitter old lady takes it down (it was a sticker)
And why is it that days like this can go from crappy to perfect (in the most basic sense of the word)
There's a million different shades of green in the grass and trees, I wish I could stay here forever.

Thoughts About Something

I think they're trying too hard.
It's like they sunk from pleasant flashbacks into a literal dark hole.
Really, what now?
Another pointless bout of depression I presume.
I swear I'm hallucinating all these demons out of my own head.
Maybe it's loneliness, or maybe I'm not alone enough.

Fatally Yours

"Well, if it's okay I'll just grab my shit and leave. I won't say one word, I'll keep my tricks up my sleeve. You flew off the handle, opened fire on me. Put me down, put me out of my misery. I'm fatally yours."
Today....
Today was just fine.
But it couldn't be.
This house is chaos.
And what's more?
Oh, Lord, what could it be?
On these days that I ramble incoherently.
I was sitting alone, reading.
Satan came and stood over me, I waved up to him.
He nudged me with his foot, so I poked him; this went on for a few minutes.
"How are you?" I asked.
He told me this story about how a few days ago he and one of his friends were laughing about me while they were on shrooms.
Mmmm, he really shouldn't have said that.
I found that dark place within myself when he said that.
That girl who moved on, who just doesn't give a shit was standing there and telling me to stay calm.
So I did, Ivy was shocked.
"I'm glad you found it amusing," I managed to reply with the biggest smile.
I began muttering about poetic injustice and illiteracy, with wide eyes and a big grin.
He had no idea what I was talking about, I kept saying, "I'm sure."
And being generally pretentious.
I can do that, because I was wearing pink lipstick, because my curls were falling down my back, because my ass looked good in those jeans, because he interrupted my reading; mostly just because he's screwed me over so many goddamn times, I reserve the right to smile real big and act completely pretentious.
He said that he had to leave to meet his girlfriend and skated away.
I exploded in frustration, yelling about "Why can't he just leave me the fuck alone?!"
My friend told me to speak in gibberish, 'cause it would make me feel better; it did.
I left with Ivy, we talked until we got to my house.
This is where you find me now, in the midst of chaos.