My Head Is So Busy and It's Not Even Sunday

[The dawn is breaking]

The first time I encountered "college ruled" paper:
"I'm not smart enough to be in college! I'm not ready for this!"
Now, I don't know what "regular ruled" loose leaf is known as.
I dislike it.
I'm ready now.

{ but then I think...

"no I'm not}

Stab is not a word that sounds like its meaning.
It ends in a very soft B sound with your lips together.
Cut is much harder.

Split ends. If it wasn't for hair and fiber optics, I could think it's a good thing, a branching off, a new division, a separation of fates.

I wish I'd never sent that letter, but what a waste of a blue M&M.

I save PostSecrets. Only the meaningful ones. The ones that make me cry, or the ones I could've written. One, that I saved from this week, I misread. It was only one letter substitution, and I thought I'd found a fellow soul. Now, I think it's cliche.

I'm consciously aware of my over-usage of the word "just."
It's very limiting. It denies all connotations and accessory motives.

Kisses lost their meaning, right?
That feel of breaking morning light?

[Now you've gone and broke it forever]