Sometimes, the grander and more ostentatious a wedding is, the more I suspect it's not real. That the couple is somehow using the spectacle to compensate for doubts and falsehoods. Then again, TomKat have the excuse of promoting Scientology to hide behind.

Babies born with full heads of hair freak me out.

And, on a final note . . . I'm not feeling attachment. I'm feeling . . . something sincere. I think the key is laughter. And I didn't know it was possible for people to talk more than I do, but they exist. It's kind of refreshing. But it's all just fun, alcohol-fueled fun. I'm not sure I have room for more than that right now, socially or emotionally. I am a slave to school and the journal. Oh, the journal. Why doesn't anyone bake me a cake or take me out for drinks when I finish editing an article?
2 comments:
:cake:
:booze:
(sorry, best I can do from here.)
Thanks, bat. That was sweet, nonetheless. :)
Post a Comment