jayne

i think i'm going to try to let my hair grow past my shoulders again. some days i miss it's length tickling my back, but days like today i'm glad it's short because it's still sweltering here.
i'm happy with my life at the moment, aside from the few bumps and obstacles, i feel good. i miss home, but i know it's not so far away, and i love the family i've found in london.
i'm feeling better that my body has stopped thinking it's pregnant, hormones fuck with my head to no end. i won't be trying them again.
i'm currently in a 'burger king internet cafe' on Regent Street. very odd to me. i'm going to go spend some money i probably shouldn't, and try to find some gifts to send home to family and friends. and maybe a few for friends closer to my new home. let's just say i'm feeling more generous than i can probably afford to be at the moment.
i'm saving my money to get a new tattoo...will be rather large and placed lovingly on my arm. i'm anxious for it's arrival.
so much for a much needed quiet, relaxing sunday, i always have so much to do, and never anywhere close to enough time to get it all done.
oh well.

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And in this life like weeds, you're just a rock to me
I could have told you all that I love you
And in the places you go, you'll see the place where you're from
I could have told you all that I love you
And in the faces you meet, you'll see the place where you'll die
I could have told you all that I love you
And on the day that you die, you'll see the people you'd met
I could have told you all that I love you
And in the faces you see, you'll see just who you've been
I wish I could have told you all:
In this life like weeds, eyes need us to see
Hearts need us to bleed, in this life like weeds
You're a rock to me
I know where you're from, but where do you belong?
In this life like weeds, you're the dirt I'll breath
In this life like weeds, you're a rock to me
All this talkin' all the time and the air fills up, up, up
Until there's nothin' left to breathe
And you think you feel most everything
And we know that our hearts are just made out of strings
To be pulled, strings to be pulled
So you think you've figured out everything
But we know that our minds are just made out of strings
To be pulled, strings to be pulled
All this talkin' all the time and the air fills up, up, up
Until there's nothing left to breathe
Up until there's nothin' left to speak.
Up until the better parts of space