Damn internet, you're such a strange parallel to real life. except you're like, not.

In other news let's go to the machine sea tonight.

Daddy needs spraypaint.

Theres a place that sells it for 4.25 out the door. and that's a good price.

...its less than what it costs to get my ass handled in modern (MTG)    

I don't win anything by making art- but that's not the point. I would pay 4.25 to have anything to do tonight that isn't sitting here and reading stuff that makes me sad.

Fukkit, there's even (literally) underground house tonight at the sushi bar.

Recently, my life is a recurrence of the scene in Nightmare Before Christmas; where Jack having been shot out of the sky on Christmas Eve realizes that he is, in fact, the pumpkin king, and makes a lousy impression of Santa.

I've spent my entire life being shaped into something I am not. and if you knew me in high school or whatever I'm still as crazy as I ever was.

I am brilliant. not casually smart. not book smart. fucking brilliant.

And I feel more than ever like Halloween town needs me.

There is time. There is always time.