Cardboard

I've had many a thing to ponder on quite recently. I've also had so much to talk about here. A while back, I came across some work of Salvador Dali (my all-time favorite surrealist artist) which was based on Alice's Adventures in Wonderland! He did one for every chapter! It made me so happy. I think that my favorite of the set was Chapter 4: The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill. I'm uploading the picture as I type, so everyone shall get a chance to see it. Here it is...

Oh, also, I came upon this web page in which the creator of it posts cardboard images with cute little love notes to his girlfriend on it. I thought that it was one of the cutest things I've seen. This is one of my many favorites:

End.

Post Script: Remember that somebody loves you more than you will ever know, even when you don't think so. And perhaps the moon has aged; perhaps witnessing the flightlessness of a single decade is as if tumbling down the darkest of rabbit holes.

Rabbird

Love is the best thing that two people can possibly ever make (besides a baby, though sex is vital in doing that anyway). The infinite feeling that one feels while in the throws of passion is quite breathtaking. It's a wondrous feeling of which few other things can even begin to compare. I think we need a new word. "Love" is thrown around so often that few even know what it means, or rather even have a clue about it. We need a word that's stronger than saying "love." I wish words like that weren't thrown around as often as they are. It's quite heartbreaking.

So earlier today, as I sat at the dead fountain at the shopping center, I noticed that not only was the water completely gone, but all the coins as well. It was really saddening. It reminded me of a scene from The Goonies where they were all at the bottom of the wishing well, and while nearly all of them wanted to take the money, the main character (I forget his name, it's been years since I've watched it) wanted to leave them because they are people's wishes and taking the coins would be taking their wishes. I hope I've made sense in what I've tried to explain. Basically, I felt as if all the wishes were stolen away and would never come true.

Post Script: I get really irritated with shitty covers/remakes/remixes of classics. Mostly sad actually, not so much irritated.

Without

I am a bird with a french fry, an obscure bird with the desire to starve, starve, starve, starve and become but bones and feathers, feathers and bones and nothing more, nothing more, nothing more. That is precisely how I would love to live my life. Of course, I would have my dear darling love by my side. I can never leave him, no matter what. He can break my heart into a million pieces and more, and I'd still love him, despite how hurt I would be.

Et cetera.

Post Script: I want me s'more lovin' pronto.
Post Script Script: Good morning, starshine, the Earth says, "Hello!" (though it's quite the opposite).

Late night edit: Go fuck yourself. You disgust me. I'm done playing your childish games. Grow the fuck up.

Sunday

The first thing I used my I.D. on to purchase was a pack of cigarettes for my mother. What a shame. I could've sworn that I blogged just yesterday, but I suppose it was just a dream. Anyway, I'm quite dissapointed with myself and my recent eating habits... meaning I've been eating and eating and eating and eating. What a dissapointment on my part. I hope I'm not gaining. I'm sure that I am, though I pray I'm not. I need a scale. I should've asked that for a birthday present. I think I'll start sharing more photos in my blog other than a PostSecret (not that I don't love PostSecrets). Perhaps I'll just add photos on and be sure to keep the secrets. I hate the way all of these words are looking as I type. I feel as if all of my thoughts are just cluttered sentences that are all irrelevant to one another. Something not so new: I'm s-s-stressing. I always get myself into such shitty situations and very, very, very seldom follow my own advice which would most likely help me. I always fuck myself over like this. I've been hating myself much more lately.

One

And in the saddest voice, he said, "Please don't be mad," and I guess I just stopped.

My temperature is still very fucked up. My throat is itchy, my head is throbbing, etc., etc., etc. To top that off, I'm still stressing, yet I still don't do shit about it. I'm a fucking failure. I'm going nowhere fast. God.

What the fuck is wrong with me?