Drugs aren't cool so stay in school.

A conversation about a musucial number and a walk down beautiful winter time memory lane and I realized something. It was something strange, and awake, so sad, and mostly just a warm comfy feeling that you have no idea its reason. I will definetly not hate Mr. B Smalls forever. I do now and I have to. But later down the road I will look back and not remember all the hateful, ridiculous things that there said in the end. I will instead remember walking down the street, with the snow and the Febuary air, with a hot pizza in hand, going to our "home" together. The first home I started on my own.

And then there were none. And that's when the music starts.


You can sign me into the mental institution now. I always look slimmer in white jackets. Oh yeah, and tan.