why are we always leaving?

i won't let it get to me just yet. it's nice to have a say in the matter on that sort of thing

it's an opportunity for regret

i've been trying not to think about it

but time's really sort of running out

if there is such a thing as ill-timed august rain

you know, this is the longest i've lived anywhere since i lived at home

(i think i'm ready to go)

or i'm going to tear my eyes out

i accidentally referred to both my apartment and my office independently as "the cave"

brokedown palace

sometimes i let things get to me more than they should

i can't get an ocean that's deep enough for my day

thunder and bombs rain down from the apartment above us, just like every other night

thou shall not take part in, or make, bad art

everything makes me feel either like i could do so much better or would do so much worse

things the grandchildren should know

acting like an adult, i guess is what i mean, which honestly, what am i expecting?