index | archives | notes Thursday, Sept. 22, 2005 11:21 p.m. << [ Pressed Flowers ] >> Dyed hair, painted nails. Sitting up for no real reason. I haven't done anything useful lately. By lately, I mean in the last seventeen years. Do you remember how fucking arrogant we were? You, the epitome of truth and virtue, and me, the patron saint of strength of character. We were such a pair, we were. You with the lies no one questioned because they loved you, and me with my mistaking lack of temptation for inability to be swayed. We didn't know anything. I think when I change something about myself, it denotes a retreat on my part. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org