I tend to be moody. My moods switch as soon as the moon rotates a millionth of a degrees. I can go from laughing at random to drooling for blood as I stare intently at my old scars. It's when the claws of depression sink their way into my chest and push me weeping into the dirt that I write my best crappy goth poetry. I used to have tons more but my old book got lost and unfortunately I don't have any other copies.
It is not a cupcake. Nor does it look or smell like a cupcake. And I'm 75% sure it doesn't taste like a cupcake.
Dancing. Cupcakes. Ponies. Singing. Cartoons. Anime. Vampires. Screw Twilight. Cuddling. Cooking. Makeup. Sex. Cookies. Puppies. Zombies. Tragedy. Beauty. Love. Music.
"I know a disease that these doctors can't treat. You contract it the day you accept all you see is a mirror. And a mirror is all it can be. A reflection of something we're missing... and these clocks keep unwinding and completely ignoring everything that we hate or adore. Once the page of a calendar is turned it's no more. So tell me then what was it for. Oh, tell me, what was it for?"