call me Hindenburg. i always crash and burn.

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yesterday i carried my camera around with me and just took all of these pictures, i saw everything different, everything was cropped into rectangular boxes and my eyes were taking pictures before my camera was. and then i got them developed at the one hour place where this scruffy boy flirted with me and said “yer photos are really great” and i was just happy and really eager to see them so i just said thanks and i wasnt like “that was totally illegal for you to just look at my pictures like that.” and they are really good especially the flower ones and the one of broken glass and concrete and oh yeah also the one of me reflected in the window of the record store with all the disgusting teen girl singer posters with fake boobs that are way too big for their skinny stick bodies and there i am reflected a real girl with my camera. because of you my life might turn out okay. ill get wild and travel all over the world and take photos of animals and tribal people and get hired by national geographic and have all of these amazing adventures and wild sex with gorgeous men who speak only some very rare dialect so we’ll only communicate with body language and therefore never stay in touch. or ill give my parents heart attacks and go to some new york art school instead of real college and become famous for my pictures that capture the souls of hookers and heroin addicts and runaway kids who live on sidewalks and sleep in flophouses and when i give my acceptance speech after i win the nobel peace prize ill say “really it all started with you. i owe it all to you.” and youll be all teary and proud.


i dont want to go back to school i want to travel the world and watch more shows on netflix

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