Eh, they're empty anyways...

...These words, that is.

I'm listening to some old Daft Punk right now and it's making me feel like a cracked out loser, leaning over my laptop and blogging with some ridiculous soundtrack. I don't usually listen to them, but my mind is expanding all crazy like lately. Seriously willy nilly. But yeah, I feel like I should be smoking a cigarette and doing blow...while blogging and listening to electrospasm noise. 

I think I'm less broken hearted and just more broken at this point. So skeptical, so skeptical. Everything girls are supposed to think are cute (Beach Boys lyrics, romantic comedies, flowers) I think are dirty dirty lies perpetuated by a patriarchal society to keep us thinking we are supposed to be pretty, cute and get all weak in the knees at the drop of a cute line. I'm crazy, straight crazy. I'm pretty sure I'm having more fun drifting around from soul to soul anywho: 

I've got this new motive. I've discussed with a few. It's called ephemeral love. Love is the best when its short and sweet and fleeting. No lies, nothing drawn out. Just a deep conversation or two, perhaps "more" and the "Peace!" off to the next. I like staring into eyes over coffee, getting a glimpse of some one's soul and then running off.  I can't fathom spending any prolonged amount of time with anyone. Seeeee aboooove paragraaaaaaaph: broken. 

My sun bleaches my hair, tans my skin and empties my head. My brain starts to feel sun streaked and faded like everything else. I can't decide if I'm thats me being detached from it or so far in it I don't even realize it. 

Don't ask me what "it" is. You're silly. 

bum bum bum bum bum bumtss bumtss bumtss bumtss bumtss

That's Daft Punk in syllables. 

I'm going go watch bad tv now since I have no school work and I'm to wary to start a book.