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Friday, July 15th, 2005
4:22 am - Entry #97
A lot can happen in 50 weeks. A lot has. Thank you for sharing it with me.

[This journal is now closed. Please visit ford_trent for fresh Ford action. Best of luck, dude.]
Thursday, June 30th, 2005
7:16 pm
I stay awake until I drop. It's hardest when it's dark of course, when the patterns my eyes make out of the murk start blending together and weighing down my lids. But plugging in a tacky plastic Virgin Mary nightlight into the outlet in the corner didn't help matters either. I'd just stare at it until it burnt a hole in the patterns and linger there until I drifted off. I resent sleeping most nights, but I just end up passing out in the warmth among those rhythmic breaths that have become my favorite lullaby. When I told Johnny about this, he smiled and muttered a line from a Bowie song I didn't know before he'd played it for me. A love so strong it tears their hearts to sleep through the fleeting hours of morning.

A fucking men to that, Dave.

Vanessa always seems to wake up first. Johnny and I have both said how amazing it is to open our eyes to her peering at us with an expression on her feline face that's somewhere between love and wonder. But I'm usually second. We smile at each other and look at Johnny and talk out of the sides of our mouths to avoid blasting each other with morning breath and we giggle and whisper about stupid shit until he wakes up. He always looks confused at first, then as his eyes focus, he gets that reluctant smile like he thinks we're plotting something. That's the thing. We used to plot, little tricks and games that would somehow nudge him into some reaction, but the tricks and games have disappeared now. It wasn't a conscious decision to abandon them, but we jointly, silently stopped when we realized that what we had to say to each other didn't need to be cloaked in humour. We wiped off the jester's hats and patted our hair into place and sat up straight so we'd be ready when his eyes opened next time, ready to be taken seriously, ready to move into the next phase of our relationship. Honesty.

No, of course we hadn't lied, but we had obscured. A matter of pride, slight embarrassment, protectiveness, sure. Mostly, we were a little scared that one of the trapeze artists in this act of delicate balance would kick the fucking bike and we'd all go over. But somewhere along the way, we found our footing and it all progressed perfectly, the greatest show on earth.

Comfortable, yes it is. But that's the word that people use for a relationship so worn in that it feels like an old pair of shoes. That's not what this is. This is comfortable like you feel when that elusive, ever-shifting romantic ideal steps out of your head and into reality and cracks a joke that makes you laugh so hard your eyes water. Then they play your new favourite song because they're dying to hear it and with this endearing nervous shifting, tell you they've been wanting to call but they weren't sure how you'd respond.

Times two.

I don't mean to be smug, but... suck on that, fate, you fickle bitch.


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Saturday, June 18th, 2005
8:40 pm - Esse est percipi
To be is to be perceived.

According to (Bishop) George Berkeley (pronounced BARK-ley, not like the California city and university), in order to exist, a thing must be beheld by someone, partly because there are no things, no matter, only ideas. (Kind of like Johnny's latest post? Hmm, something to think about.) Does my computer disappear when I leave the room and am no longer seeing/hearing/touching it? Common sense might say so, but Bishop Berkeley said No, of course not, because God is always perceiving everything.

Wonderfully summarized by Ronald Knox thusly:
There was a young man who said "God
Must think it exceedingly odd
If he finds that this tree
Continues to be
When there's no one about in the Quad."

"Dear Sir, your astonishment's odd;
I am always about in the Quad
And that's why this tree
Will continue to be
Since observed by Yours faithfully, God."

(and you all thought I only knew dirty limericks. psh.)

There are two young voices calling me to "Look, Trent, come see!!" and those are the voices I answer the fastest these days. They make me fall in love with something new every day; always more wonder to behold.

current mood: beholding and beheld


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Saturday, May 14th, 2005
1:25 am - Blame Johnny. OR Peer Pressure, Ho!
Trent's Animal Fact of the Week: Birds have no penises.
Or penes. Or penii. Whichever you prefer. Those of you who are greedy, yes, you may have all three.
Reptiles have a hemi-penis, a forked organ that looks somewhat like a wishbone or a slingshot. This means that the male Blue-Tongued Skink can approach the female Blue-Tongued Skink from either side and she's basically... well... yeah. I'm sure you're dying to know what birds do have. C'man, I know you are! They (both genders) have a vent. Cloaca if you want to sound scientific, plural cloacae. E.g. "Birds have vents." = "Avians have cloacae." "Vent" is pretty descriptive in this case, not quite as crude as the name of Courtney Love's band. It's a multifunctional chamber in which digestive, urinary, and generative canals meet. Copulation is achieved by pressing the vents together. Most other animals have cloacae, also. Penii are rare.

EDIT: Dammit, Manson, my very first Week and you had to prove me wrong.

I, for one, am glad that humans have penii.

I'm also glad to provide amusement for my friends. The latest, as far as I can tell, was organised thusly:
Hey, these flash videos are really freakeh. We should show them to Trent.
Great idea! But wouldn't it be even more fun if we first get him to imbibe this fun substance that will fuck with his brain for a little bit?
Brilliant! Trent with a fucked brain is a fun Trent! But how do we get him to imbibe it? He never has before.
Hmm... I know! We'll imply that it came from Hunter! He'll do it just to pay homage.
...... and Trent is willing to imbibe to pay homage (hey, it was a great rationalisation) but first dithers for several minutes because he knows he'll look like an idiot while imbibing. Finally gets round to it. No longer cares what he looks or sounds like. God love ya, Doctor.

Why no, I haven't been thinking about penii (my favourite one) {That is, "penii" is my favourite of the plurals, not that I have a favourite penis, which wouldn't make sense since "penii" is not equal to "one" and besides, there's the platypus to take into consideration, not that I do much because we all know my favourite spur-bearer, too. I'm just digging myself in deeper here, aren't I?} an extra lot lately. Why do you ask?

current mood: bizarre


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Tuesday, April 5th, 2005
1:12 pm - "Bubbly and cloy and happy"
No, I'll skip cloy and go straight for insidious, thanks. There was never one defining moment when I knew for sure. There were plenty of jolts, plenty of "I could so easily fall in love with this person", plenty plenty plenty "good god, he is so fucking incredibly marvellously bizarre." He said, "Even if it wasn't safe" and I fell several kilometres. There was the look on his face when he saw Manson's drawing, more falling. The first time he called me boy. The fiftieth time he called me boy. There were limes and salt and naughtiness and complexity and pinches galore; being buried to our waists and talk of toes and the sound of whipped cream cans and the astral projection of grapes.

Between the jolts, there was the comfort of slipping in easily with each other, even if it had been awhile, picking up whatever strange threads and doghairs of conversation were to be found, and there were always plenty to be found; his brain is as hairy as his carpet when it's been too long between hooverings. Thank god there's no hoovering in his head, my favourite playground.

I have no idea when it happened. I think it always was.

current mood: skyhigh like a rocket


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Wednesday, March 23rd, 2005
3:22 am - Hedgehog Week
Finally uncurling to enjoy the spring, spines laying down and flat. I've been shoving a few months' worth of socialising into a few days, wallowing in company as much as I wallowed in the Chuck E. Cheese ball pit with a certain pretty boy, then later over to his home to meet his pretty girl, an even prettier hummingbird inside than out. Another pretty boy took advantage of my wondering aloud how I'd look in eyeliner. I got much more than eyeliner, the whole dark-eyed zombie effect, which was... startling. Unexpected. but welcome. I then tried the dark-eyed effect caused by flying from LA to Paris to visit more prettiness. How will I turn out if I muse about eyeliner in their presence?

Times like these I wish I was a more skillful writer in order to better convey emotions experienced, sounds heard, lips kissed, dreams dreamt, all of life before its soft whispering flutter and gloriously hard shove escapes my mind and being. What will my soul taste like? May I have a thousand identical hatchings so that many people will know?

Nevertheless...prettiness and potables and assorted I love you's, giggles, and gestures of affection... what more could a man want? Oh right, a hand massage. Line forms on the left; one at a time, please. Okay, two at a time.

current mood: I touch myself


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Thursday, March 17th, 2005
5:30 pm - Crackle.
I seem to be a pimp this week. Who knew? Hush, that's a rhetorical question. Oh hell with it, don't hush. Go ahead, rib away. I haven't had good ribs for awhile.

Brian Viglione, the hotter half of The Dresden Dolls, has shown his lovely painted face round here. In celebration, it's time to break open a new pack of clove cigarettes and perhaps a bottle of absinthe.

In other news, Manson is now taking our questions and dispensing his sage wisdom. Yes, my first question has been submitted. It's not a very original one, but it is a pressing one.

EDIT: Has anyone seen my brain today? What's happened to me? I used to be so smooth, and now fifteen years have been shaved off my life. I hope I don't have to go back to dating girls. I never had problems like this this with them.

current mood: eleven years old


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Sunday, March 13th, 2005
9:39 pm - So May I Introduce To You...
...Amanda Palmer of The Dresden Dolls. Yes! After all my months of begging all of you for new music, I finally have some to share with you, as well as the lovely woman is who is one half of the group. Her writing is possibility even more glorious than her icons. I've put their song Coin-Operated Boy here on YouSendIt for your listening pleasure. It doesn't showcase all that Amanda's voice can do, but to me the song is irresistible for reasons I'm not totally sure of. It doesn't exactly remind me of Johnny... but maybe Johnny as Wonka, somehow? Johnny with the C&TCF music? At any rate, it's a fun song.

And you know what? I'm not even going to add any blather to try to pretend that this isn't a gratuitous pimpage post. You all love me, you'll get over it. Listen to the pretty song and look at the pretty icons and you'll get all over it.

current mood: chipper


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Monday, March 7th, 2005
5:49 am - Envision
Today's Mike's Hard Lime word is Envision.

I'm envisioning myself giving my acceptance speech for the MBP Best Male Model Award. You can vote there, about 3/4 of the way down the page. While you're there, be sure to vote for deppj also.

I'd envisioned deppj giving his acceptance speech for the Best Actor Oscar, but the Academy chose Jamie Foxx to give that speech instead. I'm sure it was a close call and that Jamie gave a fine performance, too. Johnny, you and Vanessa both looked divine. You're near perfect accessories for each other. Morgan Freeman rocked my socks with his little wink. He's been a favourite of mine for years.

I was envisioning writing more, but the third eye's vision is sharper (or at least its bite is) and it says SURFING. There is something special about surfing at dawn, so off I go.

current mood: hot


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Thursday, February 24th, 2005
5:54 pm - Sunday
I'll be watching an annual event with much different eyes than I ever have before. I won't say "good luck" because I know you'd rather it be merit, not luck. This year might be an even tougher handful to crack than last, partly because of who they are, and who they represent. Times like this make me think of my mum, and hope that there is an afterlife, so that she can see this. I'm glad I wrote this down in late October; the bit about the recent films is even more true with the addition of FN, and I'm sure that it will continue to be true.

I sat and smoked and thought about Johnny Depp. Not my friend Johnny, but Johnny Depp: actor, icon, and iconoclast. He was always one of Mum's favourites, since 21 Jump Street. Mum, some of his more recent films are some of his best, and yes, he gets hotter every year. But about my friend Johnny... you would have liked him, too. He's a good man, dotes on his children and his friends, has a brain you would have loved to pick, and he would have made you laugh so much. I wish you could have met him.

Even with all the buzz in LA and as used to filtering out most of it as I am, some reaches my consciousness, and some I'm actually glad of. I was reminded of a song I haven't thought of or heard in several years, so I played it again and was immediately hit by how perfectly it seems to fit right now. I feel like a juvenile dork sometimes for posting lyrics, but I'm not nearly as good with words as I'd like to be, nor are my talents very musical; my singing voice won't make your ears bleed, and I can play Smoke on the Water on a guitar, but who that's ever picked up a guitar can't?

oh please, who do you think they're about?Collapse )

current mood: everything


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1:02 am - You know how...
...sometimes when you haven't been in contact with a friend for awhile, and then you are, and it's kind of awkward at first... and then all of a sudden something is said and there's a smile, felt if not seen, and it clicks the two of you back together again, almost to the place you were before, but with a little something extra, a tiny earmark of realization of how special your friendship was and really still is...


I missed you more than you know. Glad I don't have to anymore.

current mood: incredibly fucking giddy


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Sunday, February 20th, 2005
4:10 am - Eliza, you're a goddess
I just want to publically proclaim that Eliza Dushku is a marvellously spectacular, wonderously kind person, and I feel lucky to have her as a friend. I wandered online late at night only because I was so sick of my own company but didn't feel like going out, and there she was, as she so often is, and cheerfully (but not in that gross sickeningly overly syrupy sweet way) said hello and asked how I was. I'm not good at giving the generic, socially polite "fine" answer, and I didn't. This is a woman who cares, let me tell you. She let me cry on her shoulder, then cheered me up and helped me feel better.

Then, when I asked, she gave me the song titles and artists that go with the lyrics to her gorgeous newly-named icons so I can try even more new-to-me music. Some of the lyrics I did recognise, happy reminders of old favourites. Let the downloading begin! Er, em, that is... so I can decide what I want to buy, yeah.

We've had some gloriously (yes, it's an adverb kind of night, people) wicked thunder here in LA. I love it. One thing I generally don't like about LA is that there's not quite enough weather. Not that I need the excess of weather that places like Akron and London have, but LA's usually the other end of the spectrum. It's nice to have some, and there's nothing like gusts of wind and rain through the palm trees. I think if I'm still awake in an hour I might go to the beach. Hell, maybe I'll go now.

current mood: revived


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Thursday, February 17th, 2005
9:10 pm - How the fuck did I end up with these icons?!
My own damn fault.

Today's question. Let's hope it won't be This Month's question. If you could get by just fine, not feel tired, stay healthy, et cetera, on just a couple hours of sleep a night, would you want to do that? Why or why not? If so, what would you do with your extra time?

My answer: fuck yes. I'd use the extra time to spend with people I care about, and firstly, to try to repair damage I've done to friendships that mean a lot to me, even though I haven't acted that way lately. You all know who you are.

current mood: sleepy


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Tuesday, December 21st, 2004
7:07 pm - Not much content to read here, move along
This is mostly a "Holy fuck, I haven't updated for three weeks! Really, I'm alive, really!!" post. I'd been working in New York, not socializing much. Got back to LA this past weekend and went to the Manson concert Sunday night and met more great people. Being around those guys is always something special. I'm leaving for Akron on Thursday to spend Christmas with my family and then who knows where I'll go before heading back to work.

Because I'd asked you all for music suggestions before (and I'm always ready for more), I thought you all might be amused by the latest audio CD I made. This one's specifically for listening to while working out. Some people say I have eclectic tastes in music, but this mix isn't very representative IMO. It's all rock of one kind or another, no classical or opera, no rap or hiphop or R&B or soul, no country or folk, no world music...

Workout CD 12-21-04Collapse )

current mood: tired


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Wednesday, December 1st, 2004
8:34 am - I dreamt an octopus spooged on me
In my dream I was sitting on some rocks of a large tidal flat, kind of like the ones in La Jolla. That's pronounced La Hoya for you non-Californians. I didn't know till after I moved to LA, even though I knew the correct pronounciation of San Jose. Spanish isn't one of the languages I know very well, and it just never occured to me.

Anyway, in the dream I was sitting on tidal rocks, nude, I think. Dreams are often nude. Why? Are our brains too lazy to dress us? In the dream, I looked down and saw a couple of clown fish and said, "Oh shit, there are clown fish only two inches from my ass!" It wasn't the clown fish I was worried about, but the anenomes they live in.

Then I was on a sandy shore, standing in a couple inches of water, looking for animals and plants, not seeing any, and thinking how I didn't trust water that didn't have anything in it. Then I saw a squiggle of dull white and realized it was a small octopus. I raked my fingers carefully through the water, trying to catch him, and he burrowed into the sand. So I raked my fingers through the sand. I didn't want to hurt him, I just wanted to watch him for a few minutes. I managed to catch him and I held him in my cupped hands, peering through cracks I hoped were too small for him to get through. He had some bits of faint red stripes on him. I could feel his head pushing against my hands where I made space to look at him, trying to get out. I tried to see his eyes but couldn't. After a moment he managed to push his way out of my hands and went jetting, literally, octopuses move via jet propulsion. As he went, out came the spooge, rather than the ink I expected. Same look and consistency as human spooge. And he went off into the surf and I didn't see him again and then I woke up.

Dreams are so weird. I realized after I woke up that an octopus probably wouldn't try to use his head to get out, he'd use his tentacles. Besides that octopus spooge is probably nothing like human spooge. I wouldn't know. That I don't need to know.

I remember my dreams once or twice a week, but this one was especially vivid. I always try to figure out where they might have come from, what they mean. On Thanksgiving we were talking about octopi and how smart they are. At some university marine biology lab, shrimp were disappearing from a tank every night and no one could figure out why. They finally set up a camera in the lab. Every night the octopus would climb out of his tank, walk/slide/whatever over to the shrimp tank, as octopi can be out of water for several minutes with no problem, climb into the shrimp tank, eat all the shrimp, then go back into his own tank. So that explains where the octopus came from. I was wondering what it all meant, but as I was typing this out, some of it started to make sense. A lot of sense.

So, yeah, I spent Thanksgiving in Ohio with my family. Went to Manson's shows Monday and last night, as well as the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, hung out with them a bit after. I just love those guys, as performers, but even more as people. Thank you again, Johnny, for introducing me to them.

I saw something today that I hadn't before. I'm not sure how long it's been there, but it made me feel warm and fuzzy. Thanks, Angel.

Filming on Awake finally starts this week in New York. I have friends there who I'm looking forward to visiting.

Finally, very happy birthday wishes to two very special ladies, Emily Mortimer and Lucia Ribisi. I hope you both have the best year ever.

current mood: weird


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Monday, November 22nd, 2004
4:34 pm - Crawling out from under my rock
I've been way too asocial the past week or so, and it's starting to get to me. I had to go to LA for a big Nintendo launch party for a new game system. I played my role and spent most of the time trying to pick up on women with a Sims kind of game. It's not that kind of "social" I've been missing, though. I miss people I can really talk to, people who talk back. I'll be trying to make more effort to seek you all out. You know who you are. I hope.

I always wonder if lame updates like this are better than no update at all. Naturally I'll be trying for a better one soon.

current mood: apathetic


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Saturday, November 13th, 2004
1:19 pm - Falling in love every day
Some of my favourite people are those who keep me thinking about things long after a conversation's over. Recently I had coffee -- Tanzanian Peaberry, a good strong French roast, because he wanted to be awake -- with a friend. I ordered a couple of pastries, as I usually do when I'm in a place like that which specialises in them. When we left the cafe, he was smoking a cigarette, as he so often is, I was struck with a thought, and I said to him, "And people say they don't understand you. Give you something for your body to consume, something for your mind to consume, and you seem pretty content."

I'm like that, too, in what makes me content, and perhaps that's part of why he and I are friends. I thought later about whether there's an emotional aspect needed. Does my heart need something to consume, something to concentrate on? Or is the emotional just a combination of what the body and mind both like? Is that when I'm emotionally attracted to someone, when the desires of my body and my mind manifest in one person?

At one point in the morning, he asked me what I wanted. I said, "The same things most people want, I imagine. Happiness. Love. Contentment. The freedom to live my life the way I choose, to the extent that's possible and feasible." I tend to think that part of why many people aren't very happy and content, or not as much as they could be, is that they look to the wrong things for happiness. Big things like births and weddings and graduations and promotions and Getting The Call. Material things like a new car, a kickass stereo, clothes that make you look hot. Don't get me wrong, I'm as into Getting The Call and clothes that make me look hot as much as the next person, but I try to appreciate the little things, too. The way the light looks at dusk, especially in the winter at northern latitudes when it has to pass through an extra lot of atmosphere and particulates; the sound a hardcover book makes when you open it for the first time; the smell and taste of the sea; the sound and the look of a friend's genuine laughter; the feel of a loved one's hair on your face.

This same friend told me once that what motivates him most to be creative is love. He said he falls in love every day. That day, I fell in love with the way he expressed that concept, and I fell in love with the part of him that feels that way. Every single day of our lives can bring wonder and awe and joy, if only we open our minds and our senses to feel it. So what if they are many of the same things everyday. Maybe that's why most people are so jaded and look to the big, the special, for their happiness. They seem to forget that a sunset, or a lover's kiss, or hearing a particular song, will never be the same way twice. Even if it were, how can we not want to experience such goodness over and over again? If you haven't seen or read the play Our Town by Thornton Wilder, do. This week. I mean it.

I still haven't gotten to "the freedom to live my life the way I choose," nor to the things I've learned this week about the intersection of language and culture. Those shall be for another post, another day.

Yeah, this entry brought to you by a marvellous overdose of endorphins. You'll manage.

current mood: joyful


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Thursday, November 11th, 2004
2:00 pm - What the hell, we could all use more love
1. Tell me one thing you love about me.

2. Tell me two things you love about yourself.

3. Look through the comments. When you see someone you know, tell them three things you love about them.

4. When you see a comment from you someone you don't know but might like to, comment to them.

5. Do this in your journal so I can tell you what I love about YOU.

current mood: silly


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Wednesday, November 10th, 2004
11:41 pm - Yeah, chipper about covers it
My mood was lifted considerably this evening thanks to a few friends, including one new one. No songs were played on repeat this evening.

The Astronaut's Wife is a good, quirky movie with some cool direction & cinematography, a pretty hot sex scene, only one ultrablatant use of a character's unbelievable stupidity to increase suspense, and at least two really great pairs of eyes, one pair belonging to Clea DuVall. Rent it with But I'm a Cheerleader, a campy "comedy of sexual disorientation," for more of Clea as well as RuPaul in a male role. Fanboying? Naaah...

current mood: chipper


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Tuesday, November 9th, 2004
1:15 pm - I'm that guy
You know how sometimes you see some guy in the park or on the beach or at a bus stop and he's got his walkman, eyes closed and dancing, maybe singing aloud, maybe just mouthing words, oblivious to the rest of the world, and if he's not singing loud enough for you to hear, you wonder what he's listening to?

Sometimes it's an upbeat song, but this time it's eyes squeezed shut to hold back the pain, to keep heartbreak from mirroring infinitely, brow furrowed, head down when it's not thrown back to stem the tide of agony, movements like a haunting freeform Tai Chi with an absent partner that he thinks/hopes/prays he can somehow hold on to if only he concentrates hard enough, if only he believes...

And isn't it funny how it's usually someone under 30 doing this, thinking they have all the pain and angst in the world when they don't know shit about pain, really. Guilty as charged.

Those of you who are over 30, who remember a world without walkmen... what the hell did you do when you weren't in cord's reach of your stereo?

It struck me dumb
To think I tried for you

You're cool
But there's rain in your heart
You're blown like a feather

And that's the oldest story in the world
You lost the key to paradise
That's the oldest story in the world

Did we have it made?
Somehow I thought we could remain
If nothing lasts
No one to blame
And you can't look back
To where you got off the track
That's a mystery
That we'll never crack
Now you can't go home

If you think this song is about you... you might be more right than vain.
If you think I've been thinking of you lately... I probably have been. I've been thinking of a few people these days. I hope your remembrance of times past are happier than mine.

current mood: fuckin angsty kid


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