Those times that we all hoped would last
it seems that they've gone by so fast.
I woke up one day and I was 25
with a hell of a hangover
and some demented sense of pride.
All we had was our dreams
that's all we needed to be free.
Wife.
Sleep.
Road trips.
Sleep.
Carol.
Sleep.
Booze.
I'll sleep on the floor.
And I'll just lock my door
so Dave don't come and tell me
"turn down that shit you play".
There is a reason I made it complicated to add me on here.
There's a reason I tend to be a fucking shitbag.
And there's a reason I work so much.
And there is a reason why I enjoy alcoholic beverages, and it is not "just to get drunk and forget who I fucked/what I did the night before".
There's a reason I enjoy smoking so much.
There's a reason I have a fucking wicked bro hymn tattoo.
And there's a reason why I spend countless hours on the telephone with soemone amongst the countless hours spent drinking, sleeping, and working.
Bring your fucking popularity contest somewhere else, please.
The Bucket List.
The Perks of Being A Wallflower. The Outsiders.