adults.

Let's gossip with seven people about him.
Okay, and now let's pray for him.

That makes sense.

Abrade.

So she tells me something.
I come up with this very well organized sentence.
Seven very foul words all line up to race rapidly out my mouth.
The words all run into one another. Jammed at the sudden halt.
I let my bottom lip touch my top.
I talk with my feet and walk away.

Come on!

I am about to fully express myself in a judgmental way. So, hide your eyes, pope.

Dear fathers,
Dear mothers,
Show your daughters love so that me and the rest of society don't have to see their whorelike photos.

Young girls,
You are eleven. Maybe thirteen.
Since you are this age you should be in turtle necks and long skirts. In my opinion anyways.
No offense, but no one wants to see your tongue sticking out of your face. Or see you girls making that really lame face. The one where you scrunch up your mouth and nose where it looks like you have smoked 57 packs a day, and for some odd reason you push this huge wrinkly clump of skin to either the right or left side of your face. And if that one fails there is always the one where you try to stick out your thin white girl lips and act like they're luscious. It's not cute.
There is a chance your back is injured from constantly sticking it in a very unnatural position. UR butt shouldn't touch the back of your neck.
I'm not even going to go into those fugly Holister mini jean skirts.
Little girls, you are pretty. You don't need to hide yourself in thick black liquid liner.

Modest is hottest. Okay, I'm going to kill myself for saying that. If you choose to reveal your skin do it in a fashionable way.

A smile is better.
Natural is the new black.

jorts.friends. music. tuna. education. community. barbed wire tattoos.

There is a group of humans.
This group of humans consist of girls.
These girls are so dear to me.
I must let you know I only met these girls just last summer.
However, I feel as if I've known them since I came out the womb.
They invited me into their lives.
They shared their stories.
They revealed how long it's been since their last shower and brushing of teeth.
They expressed their love for God.
They told me the importance of washing my face.

I met a girl:
Who has dark hair like the night and light skin, she is full of life and love, when she speaks about you, you sort of are tempted to quickly write it down and on your worse day take it out from your pocket to remind yourself of how awesome you really are, and wears a size 10 in shoes...or possibly a 13.
Another who is blonde with an excellent buttcut, her mind is full of beautiful relating advice. Creativity and her dance together frequently, and offers laughter to all who meet her.
And another who has short hair and it continues to shrink every time I see her, she is petite' but do not be fooled by her smallness she is brave and confident--like little David, she is a reader, if her fear of commitment for relationships takes over books will be a good substitution.
And another who has dreads that amuses your eyes by texture, colour, and shape, her spirit attains such a high measurement of authenticity, art is in her veins.
And another who has the most charming buzz cut, she is more quite but when she speaks it is truth that leaves her lips, she is timid and sweet.

Like I said I feel as if I've known these girls my whole life. And the ones I named aren't even all of the humans in this group. There are more wonderful girls.


I'm thankful for us getting the balls(excuse my vulgarity) to ask those boys from Michigan at C-stone for asking if we could camp by them. Because not only did we get such a good camping spot, we met the greatest people.

Thank you, God.

Side not:I've been wanting to write about them since C-stone. I put my commas everywhere and I don't know why I feel the need to explain myself. I can put commas wherever,,,,,,,,,,,.
Oh the joy of freedom.

blogger4lyfebratz.

Brother, Sister. Wife, husband. (I put the woman before the man to show equality)

"Miss you" do not hold the quality and geniality of how much I really do.
Those simple seven letters do not contain how strongly I do.
I wish we could hang out in person.
California is where you two should be.

J
a
n
n
a
&
J
o
n

Google search: greasy band boy.

I've been looking like a greasy band boy with herpes.
The cold weather has given me a gift-- a cold sore. No, I'm going to go with fever blister simply because the term "cold sore" sounds way more pleasant than it actually is. Because this fever blister is muti-coloured(off white included and horrid. Therefore fever blister takes it home.
I have no excuse for my hair being dirty. Not to mention how in need it needs a hair cut. Not trying to be dramatic but it needs a trimming more than you need oxygen.