OneTrickPwny

So... my friend and I have wasted our time writing a 264 page killjoy fanfic book.... I'm debating whether or not to publish it somewhere, but as of now, im really happy with it as a whole. Now I will continue having no life and sit here listening to the entire "Nevermind" album.

I Cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!if you can raed tihs rpsoet it. OLNY PUT THIS ON YOUR PRILOFE IF YOU CAN RAED TIHS. CNAHGE THE NMUERBR AT TOP TGOHUH, "ONLY __ PEOPLE ON DA CAN READ THIS...CAN YOU?" Go up a nmuber if you can raed it...lte's see how hgih we can get

I realized that three of the songs that make me cry like a small child have odd relations to each other:

                      yesterday- pencey prep
              from yesterday- 30 seconds to mars
the kids from yesterday- my chemical romance
  
O.O WTF!?

okay, I think I've gotten the pictures the right size... hmm...

but for now, I shalt write:

Do you ever just come up with lengthy monologues? not for a class or assignment, or really any reason. But just a long monologue for yourself, of what you would tell someone if you could finally tell them exactly what you thought? You end up getting all up in the mirror's face, telling it just what you've always wanted to. And at the end, you feel very proud of yourself, knowing that that is exactly what you would say. But, when you think back, you realize that you have no clue what you've said.

Maybe it's for a friend; where the only thing you've wanted to make them understand is how much they mean to you. And that, although they may hate themselves; the only reason you aren't out to get Bruno Mars is because "grenade" applies to you. You really would catch a grenade for them, a nuclear bomb even. And that, although they absolutely refuse to believe you no matter how many time you tell the, if they killed themselves, they'd be killing you too.

Or maybe its for someone with whom you've been fighting, and what you really want to do is scream at them, even if you may get the crap beaten out of you, suspended, or arrested. What you are burning to tell them is that you think that they are crazy. And not just a wee bit disturbed kind of crazy, but really truly, like; must have been hit on the head with a large and weighty object of your choice, kind of crazy.

And when you are finally finished, you wish they were here right now. Or at least that the situation to use that will arise soon. But it never does, You just sit quietly with this rehearsed monologue. Sitting a waiting for a moment to use it. One that will probably never come. Because in life, you just don't get to say what you want to people.

Or maybe that's just me.

I'm having some trouble with the sizes of the tattoo pictures (they are too big for deviantart), so while I try to figure out how to make them smaller, here are the urls for my Picasa web albums:

picasaweb.google.com/102410854…
picasaweb.google.com/102410854…

I gots a scanner!!! No more digital pics! yay!