TOUS LES GARÇONS ET LES FILLES DE MON AGE.

I don’t like how you yell and your histrionics and your unadulterated love for driving like a tremors sufferer (if the movements of the wheels were in soul-like sync with your trembling fingers)  and how you speak worse than the worst speaker and your love for quick silver and how you lust over large boobs which topple out of shirts made by a small child with cracked lips and asbestos lazily floating around inside them and how you carry around books that you will never read just so that you can be a living representation of an U.O. ideal citizen and how you drink from red cups and smoke menthol cigarettes and don’t realize how ugly you look and don’t realize how unattractive you are.

High school, you have been nothing to me.

I have been lazily floating around waiting to be done and finally 20 years from 28 or so days from now I wont remember any of your names.

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