I saw a man walking by the collapsed store at midnight. I want to think that he was the owner of the store. I don’t know where this sort of cruelty comes from in me. I don’t want someones work to be a pile of rubble in front of them, but I’m also loathe to think the man was some determined gawker, drawn out by a night with the dregs of some destruction.

Someone told me I should start writing again.

I guess I’ll do it here.

Feeling sort of “exhibitionist” and “trite”, writing on a fucking tumblr.

Might have to stop using short, declarative sentences.

School’s Out 2k10 by Dancepig