Lyrics: I swear that I’m a dreamer and that’s all ill ever be Cause when the morning comes I’m fighting to pick up my feet And I keep talking like I know you even though I never did But I really wish I could call you my friend
I would take you out for coffee, we’d share stories of our souls Talk about how we like being alone And even though you’d never miss me while I’m out there on the road You’d be the only one I think of when I dream of coming home
Call me crazy, baby, but I don’t know what to do I’m an honest man when it’s hard to tell the truth I don’t know what I’m doing but I know what I’ve become I’m a drunk, you’re my alcohol
In the evening when I lay here and I pick apart my lines Even writing seems so pointless when nothing ever rhymes But the truth is in the message and the words I always steal From the good times and the bad I refuse to feel
I’ve been beaten down, I’ve been bruised Told myself I could handle the truth I gave strength not to myself but to the selfish I don’t know what I’m doing but I know just what I’ve become I’m a drunk, and you’re my alcohol
New song, studio in less than 36 hours to begin working on the new EP. Can’t wait!
over 200lbs doesnt = fat. I know you want to be part of the cool fat club but you're really not there..
Dear rude fucking anon,
I really wish there was a “cool fat club,” because quite frankly it probably would have made my 21 years on this planet much more enjoyable.
Here’s what being fat has meant for me - my pediatrician telling my parents to put me on a diet at age 7, trying Jenny Craig and then Weight Watchers from ages 7-13, hating myself because I got an ice cream with my friends and my mom found the receipt and guilted me about it, being unable to find a dress for homecoming or prom and crying in the basement of my local department store, worrying so much about my boyfriend seeing my naked body that I told him I was cold the first time we had sex so I could keep my shirt and skirt on even though it was the middle of fucking July, having girls call my boyfriend a chubby chaser and me a slut to our faces because there was no other reason that he would be with me, being the biggest girl at my high school and having to special order my school uniform because it was not normally stocked in my size, being continuously picked last for any athletic competition because it was assumed that I was a poor athlete, having my track coach give me an ill-fitting men’s uniform because he assumed that the women’s sizes would not fit me, being called a lazy whale at my after school job by a customer who was mad that I would not help them after I was clocked out and walking to my car, feeling so insecure going through sorority recruitment my freshman year of college because I was so afraid that no sorority would want the heaviest girl there that I almost didn’t rush at all, being fetishized and called a BBW by men who treat me as an object, being told by my doctor that I should seriously consider weight loss surgery, and finally being harassed on the Internet by people who presume to tell me how I should feel about my body and how I should define it.
When I call myself fat. It is not because I want to be a part of a “cool fat club” it is because I am fucking fat and I can finally, finally say that without cringing, without hating myself, without wanting desperately to be thin. It took me almost 20 years, but I finally realize that my size does not define my worth and it does not make me inferior. It is true that I am a US size 16 and relatively well-proportioned so I have more privilege than other larger people, but that does not fucking mean that I haven’t been through shit of my own.
So why don’t you go fuck yourself with a chainsaw, anon. Because you have no right to tell me anything, you pathetic excuse for a human being.
my favorite part of sleepovers is when its like 4 am and everyone is laying down trying to go to bed and its silent and then someone says something like “ass butter” and we’re so tired that we can’t stop laughing
"Have you ever smacked a dolphin with a vacuum cleaner"?
im in philosophy and were talking about how you can doubt everything’s existence except for your own consciousness and the guy that sits in front of me just turns around tears streaming down his face and goes “i am on so many drugs”
As I am driving
My car makes a pop
It also starts smoking!
Then comes to a stop
I halt on the highway
In the cold winter chill
And soon my brain
Was excited! Yes, thrilled!
I had a flat tire
Wouldn’t ya’ know
What the fuck else could happen
To make this Christmas blow?
As I pulled out my phone
It would make for a hero
I looked in the corner!
OH SHIT! I’m at zero.
I yell and I curse and I kick at the wheel
I just wanted a god damn warm Christmas meal!
But hey, why have presents?
Or spirit? Or cheer?
When you can walk 2 miles in the fucking freezing cold and find a gas station that doesn’t have a jack or anything fucking else for that maTTER MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS SHIT ON MY CUNTING ASS FLOURISHER FUCK TITS BITCH