If never sleeping meant waking up early...

 ...then my body would see what my eyes could not grasp that which my hands did not hear what my ears didnt taste but my senses sensed.
 ...then an insomniac would be what i am.
 ...then sleeping in late, meant never waking up.
 ...then all the times you said i was wrong i was right.
 ...then you wouldn't understand this would you?, but you do because i speak your language. But if i speak your language, then what language do you speak.
 ...then i would have finished this post by now.
 ...then my books would have names.
 ...then my candle would smell like fire.
 ...then i would be late for school.
 ...then the yogurt in my left hand would be wood, and the spoon in my right would be a match.
 ...then all the thoughts that came out of my head at three am were the result of a half-awake brain reading thoughts aloud and then transcribing them.
 ...then it's time to go to bed.

Elongo, Elongo, from here to San Pedro, we draw lines in the sand.

I have a friend. Her name is Larysa. Maybe you've heard of her. She writes a blog.

and so begins my conversation. The stroy i mean to tell, in a blog i mean to write. The story of my friend, my much misunderstood friend.
she makes good choices, and bad choices...but mostly bad choices. And im here, to tell her what to do about them.
she writes a blog, as ive said, its called 'a day in the life of the undecided teenager' pretty awesome i must say.

why am i saying this right now? Seriously i have now idea...but its filler so live with it.

This post is going pretty Capital crazy. In the sense that I haven't been using enough.

i shall start anew, in the hopes that my next post will be easily understood, and when that fails keep reading, for i have many stories to entertain...if i can remember them.