erupting

maybe we are all characters, and suddenly we are the authors. we try to develop ourselves, writing out what we think who we are. and then there comes a day where we finally realize we are not the characters, nor the author, just the words written on pages that were once blank.  

i try to be the most tumblr i can because what else would be more fulfilling?

too busy snapping polaroids for anything else. and i draw stickmen thinking it's art, so what fun. happy face (here).

/my name is too long/