Something tastes different.

Da da dum. Da da dum. Da da dum. Da dum.

Apparently there's a musical based on Paradise Lost. I think about Milton whenever I consider how my light is spent. When I have fears that I may cease to be I think of John Keats.

I woke up yesterday morning with my thoughts the same shade of gray as the sky. Whoa. I keep thinking about how I want to fight this one kid. It's a silly reason. Maybe.

Fergalicious just came on my shuffle. Hey Stacy.

Anyways. I feel as though I can't be mad or whatever because of reasons, and I don't actually want to challenge him to a duel. It's just that this kid sucks. I really don't have to do anything to prove my superiority- I'm like ten times more awesome than this boy with his feathery flips- But that's just the thing: I AM better than this kid. That's the very reason these clouds are heavy on me.

Now it's Slug's turn to serenade me. Got a thing for the women that don't love themselves. Hey Lucy.

In the end though, it's all just petty. I got one reason to be upset and more reasons to not than there are flavors of Jelly Bellies. If I could say rhymes like Sean I'd bust out with such sweet flows about words that rhyme with Jelly Belly. I'm going to have to just settle for stealing romanticisms from on high, watching Love and Fame sink to nothingness or whatever.