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i'm ry.
i like to think i'm a kitty and i like to meow randomly.
i talk a lot,
but thats only because i hate silence.
unless i'm alone.
then silence is fine.
even though i talk a lot, you won't get to know anything significant about me.
i'm not going to be your best friend.
i'm going to let you down.
but i'm still going to tell you you're pretty.
because people don't hear they're pretty enough these days.
sometimes i wish i could be a cloud.
or a tree, maybe.
but then i wouldn't be able to eat ice cream.
and i love ice cream.
i bought cherry cigarettes on my 18th birthday,
because i thought they would be good.
i just ended up having an asthma attack.
i'm socially awkward.
i write too much.
about nothing.
and everything.
i pour my soul out, and i make up lies.
until it's so twisted that even i don't know the truth.
i'm different.
but not really.
i'm just a fucked up boy looking for a little bit of love.
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