wealth of nations.

fucking pimento cheese.
how could you survive?
no one likes you.
wheat bread or rye.
go back to where you came from.
you're not welcome here.
who the fuck combines pimentos and cheese?
i'd rather have shitty beer.

don't wake me i plan on sinking in.

she opened his e-mails with anticipation,

her heart was beating loudly.
she cherished these times with him, 

even though he lived so far away.
he was there chasing his dreams, 

dreams that were slowly turning into her,
and she was here chasing her passions, 

that were naturally turning into him.
she opened these letters like an artist would open a can of paint for the first time,
layed out before a canvas.
she opened it slowly, careful not to let anything drip out,
and began to use the paint to apply to her own canvas.
with his paint, 

she created the most beautiful pictures in her heart and in her mind.
she read on, 

sinking more and more into the wonderful ocean that he had spilled out for her. 

she was swimming in his love, and then he handed her the anchor.

she was ready to sink all the way in.
as she sank, she thought of how lucky that she was,
to be the first human being to breathe underwater.
you see, he gave this to her.
he gave her the ability to do things that she never would have thought possible.
he helped her to see that she could sink all the way to the bottom, 

and not drown,
but breathe in the depths of the waters.
to be able to truly appreciate a part of the world that no one else would ever see.

captain jack sawyer and such.

i wanted to be tom hanks one day
and maybe be in that movie castaway.
if not to leave here in my mind
but also maybe find,
myself.
i wondered what it would be like to be washed ashore
to be forgotten...
i forget.
maybe i just wanted to wear the loin cloth.
yeah.
that would be the shit.