Changbangs: jeebus i hurt.
Alex: haha
Alex: dave hung over i believe
Chang: no shit. got him too.
Chang: heheeh
Chang: ow
Alex: ?
Chang: i moved my head
Alex: haha



last thing i remember from last night... 10 shots in, mostly unintelligible, barely conscious, telling some sketchy chick no, i'm alright. and i didn't need to go home with her, coz my friends were "over there". made it home safely, thank you.

goals for last night:
'drink like a fish?' check.
'avoid sketchy std?' check.
'party like a rockstar?' check.



well then. i guess i'm a rockstar.

partied like a rockstar last night.

Chang: dood. need food
John: how was yesterday
John: dave is passed out
Chang: cant remember
John: haha
John: nice
Chang: yes.

my head hurts. my stomach is raw. i ache all over. when did i get so old?

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

dead poets society.

the sun is brilliant. fucking brilliant. the morning poured in through my window in dazzling streams, softened by the occasional cumulus skittering by. the new light energizes, filling me with a pure white energy, the invaluable byproduct of intrastellar fusion.

and i am bourne anew.

do you believe in true love?

the sort that is written about in countless fairy tales and trash romance novels

the stuff that only soulmates can find within each other's hearts

the unimaginably rare variant of that common emotion everyone partakes in at least once

the bright flame that is born again, reincarnated every lifetime, as a phoenix

because two people love each other with a heavenly passion, an unreal devotion, a superhuman conviction


i believe in true love too.

i guess i'm just slow.

but let's keep the emotional fallout at a minimum?

i don't think it's healthy.

you should learn to trust.

but have you not noticed that those who beg your confidence are those who least deserve it?

i had longed for you to tell me you trusted me.

i never thought you did.

but you did.

i didn't deserve it.

forgive me, dear. please.

i will come back for you someday. i just wonder if you will be there when i return.



you made me happy.

emotional investment. a risky venture where the capital is humanity, the reward is supposedly sacred and the probability is unlikely.

why do we do it? why did i do it?

someone please tell me.