Had a killer time at the Streetlight show last night, even if we had to leave early. Spending the day with the boyfriend, and writing a paper, watching wildlife documentaries. He’s sick so let’s hope I can help him feel better. 

Let it go down that this day in history, no matter how sad I might be at some other point, I was happy. And that’s an infinite improvement over alcohol poisoning last weekend, yeah.

Internet Exclusive Confession #2139: You’re growing out your stupid handlebar again and, god help me, I think it’s kind of sexy. Gahh.

I would tell you to come home. It’s what I have written on my calendar. “Elliot comes home!” But the reality is, this place isn’t home, is it? Not when you’re not here. Plain and simple, love, what I’ve come to know is that to me you are home. And it makes sense: that’s the only way to explain this horrid, all-pervading void left in your wake. So asking you to come home is silly. Rather, I want to go home.