04 March 2008

yo momma told yo not to converse with strangers.

guess what. i'm not a stranger.

you can call me taylor. i tend to think it's a misnomer compared to weird, unique, 
or whatever few syllable word defines sonorous in expression.

I attend some silly prestigious boarding school that is just as silly as trying to unify a diverse, contentious, crazy, independent, stylish humankind by a school uniform.
which, thankfully, i don't have.

imma self proclaimed hippie, but i have a lot of improving to do.
i can be your project, make me over.
but don't do a cursory job. details embellish a personality, branding it and carving themselves into the individual they embody.
make mine pretty, make mine sweet, but you better make my details bright.

meaning a smile;
the only cure to a bad day.

sorry, i don't make sense. i ramble on. i'm an art dork, but a sports geek, as well.
forgive me. let's start over.
i'm taylor, nice to meet you.

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