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“So, Mr. Kloppershoe, how do you plan to contribute creatively to the band’s next big project?” The reporter, who bore a hideous resemblance to Paris Hilton, smiled and shoved the microphone further into my face.
I inched away from the life-size Barbie doll, readjusting my glasses before giving her a pointed look. “Okay, first off, it’s Klopfenstein. Second, I’m probably just gonna do what I always do, I guess. Help Aaron with most of the songs, write one or two of my own little numbers, and just rock out with the fans, y’know? Creatively speaking, it’s kinda like having—”
“Well, that is simpl
:Color_Words:Color/Words:Color_Words:
This feels like...I don't know. I'm scared. I can't form words properly in my head anymore. What the fuck is this?
I always know what to say. They're just words though. Just letters and sounds and meaning all arranged in a pattern. But that's one of my gifts. Words. Good words. Kind words. Helpful words.
do the right thing, make people feel better, it's what you do, what are you waiting for...
It's changed. Lately...someone comes to me and I just...blank. Like when you turn the TV off. A soundless black screen.
No reflection, just…
e m p t i n e s s
caliente
Bewildered
Thanks so much for visiting my new page!
And thanks even more for the watch!
PS* Your webcam... OMFG HALERIOUS! XDD
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Hello Toilet
`poisonedrose - thanks brett <£...ahhh brit love
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♥ Love & peace ♥
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