mjthinkpink

 once again attempting to get back into deviantart. i keep posting all my photography on flickr and my writing on my personal tumblr-- which is mostly just angst and complaining. i'm bored of my constant need to make everything depressing yet fighting it is almost pointless. i'm simply at a point in my life where it's hard not to vomit up my feelings with icy metaphors and needless adjectives. trying to hide myself everywhere only functions for so long. i recently completed dialectal behavioural therapy so i'm going to pull a dialectics on this situation. i want to be more involved in an art community and the majority of my art has to do wit

 summer drags itself forward unwillingly as we find ourselves be pulled along with it in a haze. you wait for the days to come and when they do, you find yourself grappling with the next situation to be excited about. we live awaiting the better thing ahead. it's a coping method, so much of life is a coping method. i started writing songs a few months back while in rehab, shortly before i was strumming away on my ukulele (his name is gregory). i love creating music; it gives me a sense of power i've desired but never thought i could truly indulge in. i also met two rappers who i became quite close with thus enforcing my love for spoken word

 so basically throughout the last few days i've been sick (i'm not even sure though. i feel crappy one minute than i'm like WOOH COOL BRO butlike iunno man, creepy shit). and if eating leftover Halloween candy was a job, i'd be a motherfucking MILLIONAIRE. yeahyeah, i've been a hermit. i'm rereading a book series i read a long time ago because the author of said series is coming to my town soon! woohwooh! though now i realize her writing isn't as great as i thought it was so many years ago. has that ever happened to anyone? have a series you like but when you read it when you're older, it's not as great as you thought? the books are easy to