This is the story of America. Everybody’s doing what they think they’re supposed to do—Jack’s pickled liver tells us and Kerouacian sentiments persist like American blood after slit wrists or the miles of open road dividing the East and West Coasts or connecting the two by chasing the sun...
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My littler pony
As I sit and eat my off brand pretzel rods I think about money, and soup, and a little about a couple of the movie stars named Kevin.
It hardly matters, and I realize that.
I am going to start calling these useless thoughts and daydreams, “my little ponies.”
Here are some other my little ponies that come to mind:
1. Why is there a gender stereotype for using straws in a drink.
2. Who’d win in a fight: Kevin Spacey or Kevin Bacon.
3. Napkins are for boring grown ups that care a weird amount about the tidiness of their sleeves.
4. We adore Kurt and he’s eternally flipping us off in plaid heaven.
5. They should make a reality show where they force CEO’s of major media conglomerates to live on the streets during the winter. Keyword, force.
6. Red wine would be sarcastic if it was a person.
7. They should make it illegal for people that have or have ever had grillz to procreate.
8. They should make it illegal to procreate if you’re a person for the next 30 years.
9. Online dating is like decaf anything, pointless.
10. What’s the longest pee time in the world.
11. It’s predictable to end a list at 10.
Wouldn’t it be nice
If you could eat fried rice
Without trippin bout
The calorie count
Wouldn’t it be nice
If you could rewind
A bad relationship with an ex
And punch em in the neck
Wouldn’t it be nice
If you could say how you feel
An tell the chick in front of you complaining
It’s not a big deal
Wouldn’t it be nice
To quit your job
And become a slob
Who makes fun of girls with bobs
Wouldn’t it be sweet
To walk in the middle of the street
In the middle of the night
With no flash ligh
Wouldn’t it be sweet
To propose to a girl
In the middle of her wedding
While also receiving heading
Wouldn’t it be sweet
To eat lots of chocolate
finally win bop it
Eat macaroni with cheeses
And say fuck you to Jesus
sinking
I’m sitting and I’m sinking
and thinking about what I have
all I have is nothing
and in between nothing makes me glad
I’m sitting and I’m drinking
and thinking about the past
all I have is what I can remember
and in between remembering makes me sad
I’m sitting and I’m dreaming
and my dreams belong to me
all I have is what I’m dreaming
and in between dreaming I feel free
In the midst of all the pathetic swallows of the ocean
And despite our evil hearts and stubborn minds
We are born
So extravagantly full of life and concerned with time
We live quiet
Terrified of commotion
To curse the sky for our faults and fears
Lying here in the grey I still remember
Remember you and all the times I realized we wouldn’t end up together
I’ve been terrified of myself forever
And I will never in a million evers let the sting of your voice sever my heart
For I was born to lose the hell outta myself and wander further than I know
And I know it’ll hurt getting up and waking up somedays
But it’s going crazy that I’ve done right
Trekking through the madness of my life
Hoping I’ve taken the wrong way right
But left here I am left with only my body to shiver me through the rainy weather
We’re too calm when were together
All of us clinging onto to people we never had
And I’m craving the rocks at the bottom of the deepest cave for no shade can blacken your face
We are born
Yes we are born
But not to hold grudges and make promises
To crave the wander
To let the unknown feed on our ghosts
Let go of the hopes we think we know
Cease trying to put values to a cross and value the things you realize when you are lost
How cool it is to like yourself.
Not in an obsessive or conceded way.
Just in the comfortable way that you sometimes crave solidarity.
Those who fear it, maybe they fear themselves.
Being alone with all their own thoughts.
It can be a taunting thing, if one allows.
But why.
How magnificent it could be to spend some quality time with the machine that carries you everywhere.
The thing that never gets a break from chugging you around.
It seems humans forget how much we owe our minds.
And we curse them for everything.
They make us too emotional, analytical, confrontational.
They make us love and hate and all the uncertainties in between.
Everyone should lend an ear to their mind.
Everyone should take enough time alone to be able to listen.
You grow up the day you have your first real laugh at yourself.

