day and i, in competition ran

I am really really terrible at saying what I really mean. I’m also terrible about updating my Internet.

.

sunrise to sunset, you’re either coming or you just left; but your always on the way.

tonight, your ghost will ask my ghost, where is the love?

5= fucking insanity. 8 and the following, i’m really sorry about all that. if 11 had been my lucky number maybe it would have changed things. numerically, 19 no longer holds the same appeal as it once did.

as for 14, (i never really loved you.)

17 is a mystery. it was so easy to lie, 10; 23; 7; 2. too bad heaven isn’t spelled with just 3 letters.

its a big, big (22) world.

and so it goes, i guess.

A Port Jefferson Station man was killed in a motorcycle crash in Saint James on Sunday, April 19, Suffolk Police say.

Serkan Senal, 30, was riding a Suzuki motorcycle eastbound on Route 25 when the motorcycle struck a Jeep that was being driven northbound by Valerie Campbell, 19, of Nesconset, at the intersection of Cambon Place at about 1:55 p.m., according to Fourth Squad detectives.

Senal and Campbell were both taken to Stony Brook University Medical Center where Senal was pronounced dead 25 minutes later, police say. Campbell was treated and released.

i’m not going to miss it.

the day of departure from the east coast is looooming and i can’t fucking wait.

so, i got this email from this girl. whom i like, barely know. we’ve shared a few laughs and a few drinks and some (inthepast) mutual friends. for one, tiny simple, innocent thing i asked from her, i get this long winded completely irrational response back. it made me embarrassed for her. that someone can really still be so god damn stupid and petty at 24 years old.

now, i don’t know this girl. nor do i want to know her, or nor do i really give a flipping shit about what she thinks of me or has to say to me, or about me..[lets be honest for a second; i’ve lived in the hellhole corner of the universe we americans so politely label, “the suburbs”, and i know there isn’t anything else to do but try and make everyone elses lives as miserable as your puny existence is.] and i know that she probably immediately texted half of the phonebook in her blackberry to complain about what a bitch i am, or some dumb shit.

why do i even bother mentioning this? maybe its because its so irritating. and how i am so tired of how small and secluded and outright infectious the place i grew up in is.

like, for real! throughout my time and my journeys i’ve met many a kinder breed. i think that long island is a hotbed for fuckups and losers. it is such a poisonous place- it is stifling- the thought of returning there, even for a short visit, makes me want to vomit in my mouth.

in other news, i am also sick of brooklyn and my neighborhood smells like shit, like literal shit, and i think that it made my brain fall out.

due to my lack of a cerebral cortex at this time i cannot be held responsible for the heavy drinking and absolutely irrational decisions that have been taking place in my life for the past week.

note to self:

run run run run run

gooooo!

and, you knowwwwwww…

i wanna make deserttt magicccc with youuuuuu<3