Sustain THIS!

 It is the final week of my freshman year of college! Technically! In reality I should be like a junior or something now, but I have not been great about the schoolarino stuff :P

BUT.

 

THIS MEANS...
 

I have a three page paper due tomorrow. 

 

I uh... Well... You can just guess how much I've progressed on that from how many ellipses I've been shitting out in this one post. WOAH I CAN CHANGE THE FONT SIZE. WHOAAA HAHA. Well now we know haha. Wait that's too small, Here. Okay I think this is normal again. DUDE DO YOU SEE HOW I'M PROCRASTINATING RIGHT NOW. OHH MY FUCKING GAWD. Okay I have to do this oh myyyy golly good jee williking jelly bean. Okay. Bye.

Can We Forget? (dontevenhavetoforgive)

 My body is so weak and I know it's from the bites. A lycanthrope with a self soothing tendency of taking chunks of flesh off it's own body. You always regret it but then you remember the taste. You remember the sting. Do I write aimed towards an invisible "you" because I hate to admit it's me? Is it embarrassing to do so? Who else could it be. You cannot write a memoir of an emaciated wolf without personally knowing the aching of it's stomach. I don't consider myself a victim here but I'd appreciate the pity none the less. My way. I want it. But I'll take the long road, and blow down little piggy huts along the way. And so I'll never get it. And at night when my bones turn to gelatinous toddlers, growing before your eyes and stumbling into their new form, My stomach stretches into a cavern with stalagmites of nausea. If only I'd learn to stop looking at the moon. The words of someone blameless, huh. Sure. I'll believe it for now. Because you're sick, and you can't keep up with your body. But you've been transforming for some time now, you think you'd get the hang of it. justshutupandeatthebacon. 

Like Old Times (The Bald Head Ballad)

 My hair looks the way it did my freshman year. 

The way it did before I dyed it. 

The way it did before I cut it all off. 

Is stasis healing? Should I instead describe it as regression? What about rebirth? What beautiful metaphor can I make of such a simple thing.

I guess I can say it's symbolic. For the natural cycle of life. I tried to deny who I was but how can you deny the color of your roots when they're always just gonna grow right back in. It grows to be whatever color it pleases. And it will forevermore, without a doubt. No matter what I have to say about it. Maybe I just got it all wrong, so nature is making it right again. It's pretty funny to see the person in the mirror that you used to run so far away from. You still do sometimes.