here first. until we are there.

i can’t seem to post my results, but i got the sonnet 17 by pablo neruda for that quiz on which poem are you?

i’ve always loved this poem. i can’t hide this. i’m pathetic. i’m a hopeless romantic. blah.

i think i’ve been too afraid to bore people because at the core of things, i’m exactly what chicken soup is talking about…you know idealistic and all that….that i get myself into these crazy situations just to seem interesting.

*crickets chirping*


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