The other day

I prefaced a conversation by saying “and that’s how it ends”.

Is it really that simple?

I prefaced later on from the past preface and said, and I quote, “It’s a story of love and misfortune, hurling broken dreams tumbling into less compassionate atmosphere’s”

Doesn’t make a lick of sense, correct? Wrong.

It was perfect in it’s design, shaped towards strict dietary guidelines and pompous viewpoints strangling for the right choice. Wrong again.

Articulating, articulating. Lift the dying with your hands, pray towards the sun, and wish upon the furthest star, the closer can’t hear you.

All that, in a matter of minutes, reversed the earths gravitational pull, and ceased to be funny or mocking. Fly with wings of old wax and dusty overcoats.

Michelle rocksssssss

That’s right, I said it.

And don’t think your not good enough to be written about, silly.

By the way, Black Moth Super Rainbow is now my favorite band….ever.

I’ve learned two valuable lessons when dealing with Prozac and work:

1. Never….EVER! forget to take it after you smoke copious amounts of marijuana. I learned that the hard way at work the next morning, barely being able to function. I had to train someone on their first day, and then later recalling that situation yesterday. Their response: “Yeah dude, you were fucked up.”

2. Never work until after the time you usually take it without taking it. I learned that yesterday, feeling so out of it and depressed.