Sometimes I feel like relationships consist of telling your same life stories to different people until someone finally appreciates them.
In my family strange is relative.
In reality punk people are usually the gentlest, kindest folks you'll ever know. They're like hippies, only they wear way more black.
Unhappiness slowly creeps up on you, like a shape-shifting monster waiting in the darkness of your hallway, his bulging eyes watching your every move. The breath on his slimy tongue makes the hairs on your neck stand up.
