She just wants to be somewhere.
She just wants to be.
She just wants to be somewhere.
She just wants to be.

I tried to find The Kid tonight, to ask him to be my muse. He must be the muse of me. I got a response (an artful rsvp) from the prof who so shattered my ideal world. He had no ideal. I did. But then I did not.
I have embraced Oban again. Hello Oban, give me bigger, give me bigger ideas.
I pet Extra until I wore a path into his fur and he screamed for Mercy.
I have no idea. I have no ideas. I have no ideal. I have no ideals.
I am a grad student?
I am a student of life?
I am a liver?
I am alive?
I am a lie?

Buddha Love.