Matthew. Robert. Hawkins. 19. Swansea. South Wales.
I think I'm a perfectionist. Not in an overly annoying or controlling way. It just really pisses me off when the CD player volume is on an odd number.
I love all of my friends. I imagine we'll all get liver failure/lung cancer around about the same time. I also imagine that only the limitations of our bodies will be able to separate us.
One of my most vivid childhood memories takes place in Folly Farm. After impaling a 3 inch nail through my left kneecap, I stumble bloodily down the stairs of the "HayJump" to seek refuge in the arms of my mother. Unfortunately, my efforts are impeded when I trip and fall, landing head-first and, subsequently unconsciously, on the tarmac. Fucking hate that place.
