yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


his jacket is crumpled up behind the couch and i dont intend on giving it back. when i feel bad, i sit on the couch and dangle my arm over the back, memorizing the texture and the stitching. it smells like cat urine and cigarettes. in the pocket, there's only one slip of paper. it's a note i left him on his windshield. it says 'you, you, you.' then my phone number, which he knew anyway.

i definitely need an elastica cd a couple of hot girls to hang around with.

d-land