buriedluck blogspot.com

Malone, You Say?

Malone, You Say? What have you done? Wednesday, 12 August 2015. Postcards from a Passing Passion. I dont know why Im talking about rugs, when I just wanted to say that Im going to marry you so I can kiss you whenever I feel like it. I dont know why you said what you said, but I get it now. Cheers. Friday, 3 October 2014. Maybe the problem is you. Maybe, the problem is me. I dont know what the problem is. I need a moment. I saw the irritation in her face, but couldnt bring myself care. You w.

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The flower child.

Monday, September 8, 2014. We sat, ticking Shakespeare away and not noticing him pass by. We laughed, because our babies would be so hairy. Friday, December 20, 2013. All your life you overdose on saturated fats and rely on your metabolic rate to do things you are too lazy and too stupid to do. Then one day you wake up morbidly obese.

Random Indie Artistic Love Child.

Its not all flowers and meth. Tuesday, March 08, 2016. How did I get here? I cannot pinpoint exactly when we all stopped believing in the magic. It was like a gentle tumble, a misunderstanding at first, a joke when thought of alone at night. No matter what it is now, surely I will get my happy ever after. Surely, they will come.

The Unstable Atom

Reflecting over life through weird, crazy, ever changing, euphoric, absurd, confused and at times impartial lenses -a journey of curiosity and questions with my two alter egos. as I try to fall out of the stagnation of instability. or the desperate attempt to remain. Trying to unravel the mysteries. or maybe just living them out. Malone, You Say? A Bitter Sweet Symphony - This Life. Why is a raven like a writing desk? Is it love if it needs to be affirmed repeatedly? He asked if.

Today Has Been Okay

Saturday, May 30, 2015. The Half Truth In These Lies. Maybe I will tell you jokes and divert your attention. Maybe the sad truth is that I am scared and have started to feel really nervous. I was born wounded and I will die aching.

Im Working On It

There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to never feel the breaking apart. Wednesday, July 29, 2015. You Can Be My Fiasco Anytime. Well, there you go. Saturday, October 18, 2014. Thursday, August 1, 2013. For the three years I was in love I was a writer. Friday, January 18, 2013.

time capsule

Thursday, January 5, 2012 by B. Of crushed rose-scented liliaceous plants. Of turning a new leaf. Wednesday, December 28, 2011 by B. Or just a passing thought? .

Accounting For My Laughter Lines

Thursday, July 23, 2015. snow! Remember how we thought it was never going to go away? That we would be stuck with these hulking mountains of snow, and forced to live like that forever? And, just like that, while we were busy battling crazy long case studies, internship interviews, weekly quizzes and job searches, our time at Babson has also melted away.

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Malone, You Say?

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Malone, You Say? What have you done? Wednesday, 12 August 2015. Postcards from a Passing Passion. I dont know why Im talking about rugs, when I just wanted to say that Im going to marry you so I can kiss you whenever I feel like it. I dont know why you said what you said, but I get it now. Cheers. Friday, 3 October 2014. Maybe the problem is you. Maybe, the problem is me. I dont know what the problem is. I need a moment. I saw the irritation in her face, but couldnt bring myself care. You w.

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This web page buriedluck.blogspot.com states the following, "Malone, You Say? What have you done? Wednesday, 12 August 2015." We saw that the webpage said " Postcards from a Passing Passion." It also said " I dont know why Im talking about rugs, when I just wanted to say that Im going to marry you so I can kiss you whenever I feel like it. I dont know why you said what you said, but I get it now. Friday, 3 October 2014. Maybe the problem is you. Maybe, the problem is me. I dont know what the problem is. I saw the irritation in her face, but couldnt bring myself care."

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Her bare soul turned inside out. Today - not even that, for already it is tomorrow -. Slides away like all the other days, and with time on her side. She would look back on this day without bitterness and without emotion. Time would heal and time would cure. To keep on lurching at her from dreams,. To mock her from half-empty glasses,. To leap at her unexpectedly at odd times? The day we got drunk on cake.

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