Or just dance it off.
Yeah, I do that one best. Except now tomorrow, I may not be able to walk.
But I'm used to it by now. I guess. Getting there, at least.
Also, guess what, I feel like an idiot. Thanks.
No, not that. Don't make me Carly Simon your ass.
I don't hide. I won't hide. I refuse to hide. I have too much pride. To hide. I just like to rhyme. Thyme.
(+parsleysagerosemary, kthx)
Look, I'm sorry. It's not in the normal sense of the word, when I say I grew up with you, but I did. I did most of my growing alongside you. That is where I grew best, shaded and protected at times, but also absorbing enough energy and sunlight to properly photosynthesize or whatever. I avoided becoming what I didn't want to be. I am this person today because of all that growing that happened over cette periode de temps la.
It's like finding out that the forest was actually a cement block. That sort of cut off the air after you got too big. Or rather...yeah. Well. Metaphors never end up working so great for me.
Okay, the point is, I have to find a new energy source. Like switching from carbon to hyro...lic...ation...astor...propeller...power. Or like switching nail polish colors. Or like getting a new coat, or a new pair of socks. Actually, it's like none of those things.
It never, ever is.
It's not you, or what you did, or what you regret. It's the fact that you think it was the same. Listen to your friends.
Libraries...the buns of knowledge.
Or were buns the libraries of knowledge?
Can you have any other kind of library, other than one of knowledge?
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