“i’m not high, i’m just tired, and i had an energy drink, so i’m a little fidgety,” harbor said avoiding eye contact with the other known very well that his pupils were the size of a pin point due to the drugs running through his veins.
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“i’m not high, i’m just tired, and i had an energy drink, so i’m a little fidgety,” harbor said avoiding eye contact with the other known very well that his pupils were the size of a pin point due to the drugs running through his veins.

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Clarissa looked at the festival as it loomed before her. Even from the entrance, she could gather every other word of the song the band currently on the stage was playing. The crowd trying to buy their tickets jostled by her as she stood frozen, her instinct to flee growing more pressing. She fought through the urge, determined to actually enjoy something without letting her fear control her. Ticket clutched tightly in her hand, she slipped past a pack of twenty-somethings and into the festival grounds. Her eyes caught one of the vendors, and she made her way over to him: alcohol, that's what she needed to make it through the evening. Paying the man for the solo cup of beer, she turned around quickly, her gaze settling on the band up on the stage. They were unfamiliar to her, but they had a unique sound. She found herself drifting closer to them, the crowd growing nearer with each step. Her eyes fixed on the band, she didn't notice the small hole in the ground which the heel of her pumps slipped into. She lost her balance, spilling her full cup and half falling on the person just ahead of her. Picking herself quickly off the ground, her apologies began to spill from her lips before she was even upright. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I didn't even see that hole, oh god! Are you alright?"
Sometimes I wonder why I stay in Seattle....there is just...too much rain all the time.
Why do my students keep on giggling around me? Do I have something on my face?
"Either it's me or the earth has been spinning really fast today.."

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"I'm sorry, but you did what?"
"The door's open...."
Is it a coincidence that Valentine was the saint of love and plague? Doubt it.
So next time you buy your sweetheart flowers, consider how great a package deal they would be with some bees. Then when she blames you for her being stung a million times, remind her that it's the thought that counts and she should be grateful you got her anything at all. This way, she'll know right away that you're an emotionally manipulative jackass and won't have to find out a decade down the road after everything goes to shit.