I want to kill someone.

To the hair puller, the white girl with dirty blonde hair, who took great pleasure in bathing in a bucket, and then claiming she would marry a girl.

To the only sibling I talk to, or respect, or listen to, or heed. The only sibling who I defend, and the only one who will ever get to drive my Lamborghini.

Happy birthday!

"Happy birthday to you..."

Today I went back in time.

To an old haunt.

To an old friend.

To another time.

To a restaurant.

To a conversation in a car, outside that same restaurant.

To a moment.

And then, somewhere in the middle of all this, I heard a dead Parsi guy say:


"Oh how I want to be free, baby.
Oh, how I want to be free."

Sometimes I wish I were her.

Sometimes I wish I were her.

Sometimes I wish I were here.

Sometimes I wish I were here.

Sometimes I wish I were free.

Sometimes I wish I were me.


"All we have to do now
Is take these lies and make them true somehow."
All we have to see
Is that I don't belong to you, and you don't belong to me."

Fast cars. Loud music. Alcohol.

Cliches are so much fun.


"You gotta keep pushin' for the fortune and fame.
You know it's, it's all a gamble when it's just a game."