new friendships and old onesseem to spring and respeing with every passing moment. and for each new one, an old one dies. roots spread like wildfire and the soil is poison. i love migraines. almost as much as i love getting blown off. and i like getting blown off. a lot. not like that sicko. i miss the good old days. the days of certainty and always having someone to give you hugs in the hall. i miss those days. i guess memories will have to do. meh.