Our next concert we’re performing Firebird by Stravinsky. Do I have what it takes? Fuck yes.

remember when we used to sit in my room with the black light on, listening to the postal service? i was staring at the fan as it rotated and rotated like a wheel, never stopping, waiting to stop at some point, until i shivered and turned it off. you whispered something in my ear. a question. a question that had changed my whole perspective towards everything. we used to always sit in my room and paint. paint with brushes and with our bare hands. we used to paint on each others faces. the paint fluoresced and turned the room into a orange purple shade. our hands glowed with paint, and spots of orange shined on your cheeks. you seemed so innocent. always smiling, always laughing, always looking at me with those dark brown eyes. why must you weep in sorrow? why must you be afraid? why cant we be how we used to be? i took you everywhere. to every place i knew. we walked on the train tracks, we walked on cemeteries, we walked on the park. our own adventure. that’s how it used to be. but now there’s nowhere to go, or to look back to. why is it that the same person you hold on to, is the same person that lets you down? 

let school begin again. and blow away the apathy with your soft lips. let us continue how our days were, when all we worried about was getting that paper done. we work, we’re social, we follow our dreams (or at least try to). ambition will begin in a week.