He was the captain of the rugby team and he was built like a fucking gorilla. He had the personality of a fucking gorilla, too.
~ S.a. Tawks
Your days are only important if you decide to make them important.
If I hadn't worked up the courage to talk to Christy, she most likely would have been a pretty face that disappeared back into the crowd.
People give up. People settle. People persevere. And you can do all three if you're smart enough.
I let my initial stance on her prettiness stand and didn't let any superficial thoughts hobble it.
Besides the gifts, the only thing that gave the headstones colour were the memories family and friends had of the people they represented.
Lighting a cigarette with a sense of achievement for company made the journey worth it.
They were queen bitches and it seemed everyone and everything they knew and everyone and everything they didn't know deserved some kind of criticism.
The stretch of Bruce Highway between Gin Gin and Miriam Vale was long and lonesome.
It was as if I was automatically one of them because I smoked.
We smoked the joints down to the roaches and then relaxed beneath the stars to let the drug form dazzling constellations.
It was odd but I couldn't jump the chasm of missing evidence to the conclusion Todd was making.
Most would probably call it a dumb idea, but considering my wants it was a good idea.
It was an impossible achievement but that didn't stop me from trying and having fun.
What does that quote mean to you? Can you explain the concept behind it and not just repeat the pretty phrase to me?
Looking back really does make you wonder, but the truth is it doesn't change a thing.
Everyones' worst problems weigh the same, and it's up to you how heavy that weight is and how much you let it drag you down.
I didn't appreciate the moment as much as I should have while living it, but I can attribute that to my poor emotional state and hindsight.
Other times, when existential crisis mode kicked in, I flirted with the idea of giving up and drifting whichever way gravity and wind moved me.
Misadventure was my primary compass and I followed it without caring if I pissed off one person or a whole bunch of people.
It was a start, and a start is all anyone needs to put an end to something.
It was my duty as a mother to invade your privacy and search your room. I'm just glad you weren't hiding an illegal drug.
In a world of differing opinions, mentally unstable people and complete psychopaths, it was the type of simplistic notion that some people wouldn't want to follow or ignorance would just simply not allow them to understand.
I found it hard to get motivated because I found it hard to care.
My sense of misadventure took over and I began looking at my problems as challenges.
I wasn't pissed off, I was just robbed of most of the cocky confidence my cunningness had created.
I liked learning but the challenge was that my mother's need to turn education into a competition was ruining the experience for me.
Too much negativity can make the strongest structures dilapidate.
I found that disturbing the night's calm ambience was almost as gratifying as the ambience itself.
Maybe I should have given more thought to her thoughts.
Self-harm appealed to my sadness but I didn't let it coax me.
Would I come off as a creepy-stalker-kind-of-guy or would it demonstrate that I cared?
I'd developed an apology-is-much-better-than-asking-for-permission mentality.
A misadventurer's greatest fear is their mother.
My anger tempted the act of delinquency and it felt good to dabble.
The purpose of water is to drink it but we swim in it for the fun of it.
There were no snooty commuters at this late hour. They were home snug in their beds where they should be.
After spending the previous night the way I had, I felt I could afford to lose some of the daytime to sleep.
Maybe if you allowed me to blow off some steam, I wouldn't have been so frustrated when I had to find higher order fucking derivatives.
Acting with confidence, but inside lacking certainty, I'd told her I could.
