my friend asked me

if i made up the weird, sometimes seemingly nonsensical shit i type in bulletins or what.

i told him that sometimes i do, but a lot of the times it is just lyrics from whatever song i was listening to.

i typed this whole thing with ymy eyes closed.

i often think

that life would be easier if i had some higher power to look up to.

i have two sisters

and two brothers

i am connor

and i have an inferiority complex the size of texas when it comes to X

sick and tired

sick and fucking tired of everything being about you. you're who i think of, who i write about, who i want to talk to hang out with take to lunch catch a flick with just be with play a game with walk the streets with see the sights with have a drink with sit in the hottub with take pictures of take pictures with cook with bake with sit with stand with, who i want to hold and comfort and let know it will be ok and you will be loved and do everything with.

fucking sick. fucking tired.

i wished i lived out in the country

so i could shoot my guns whenever i want. handguns, pistols, rifles, even my BB guns i can't shoot all the time here. this sucks.

haven't blogged

for 19 days


19 days


19 days