Ya boy Richard-- 21, college in MN. Blog consists of some of my writing and stabs and funniness, introspection, and coolness.

"Writing" "creative writing" "prose" "poetry" and "poem" are good tags to check out, as well as /writings for untagged writing. Hit me up!

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"Someday you’ll find the right person, and you’ll learn to have a lot more confidence in yourself. That’s what I think. So don’t settle for anything less. In this world, there are things you can only do alone, and things you can only do with somebody else. It’s important to combine the two in just the right amount." 


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Sigh. Anyway. Time to listen to Lowrider Oldies as I fall asleep. No lie, Sleep Walk by Santo and Johnny is the jam.

I’m fuckin pissed.

Just gotta rant for a sec even though I should really be in bed cuz my flight’s tomorrow and everything. I just checked my email and there’s a cloying ass message from the current EICs that sorta assumes that I won’t be coming back to the Mac Weekly next year. I think that’s because, as low key as we kept it, news of my breaking up with my girlfriend, who’s also on the weekly, has gotten around. And it’s just assumed that she’s the one who keeps the Weekly in the divorce? Fuck that. They just stated, without asking, she’s gonna be EIC next semester. Aren’t there supposed to be fucking elections? What the fuck?

It’s not like I’m power hungry. I’m not. But I know I’d be damn good at being Chief. I know InDesign. I’m a fucking great writer and editor. And I can lead and inspire and manage a team— not even to be competitive, but better than her, that’s for damn sure. My Opinion section replacements, who I hand-picked, trained, and taught how to keep the section vibrant, are fucking kick-ass. But no one at that paper ever seems to give me any respect. I dunno.

Fuck this. For once in my college career, I stand up for myself, and my own feelings, and break up with my girlfriend— who don’t get me wrong, sweet and pretty and blah blah blah— I break up with her, some shit I’d been wanting to do for at least a year, and this is what I get? Excommunicated from a paper that I really feel I’ve had a huge hand in nurturing since my first year? Faculty read my shit. I’ve written for news. Angry Counter Punch was huge. I trained newcomers. I stay til fucking 5 am nearly every time, editing and shit. 

Listen. Beyond even wanting to be recognized for my efforts and leadership potential, this shit is my network. Despite being Martial Arts President, there’s not a lot of regular community there. Bad Comedy, unless we get great new blood, can be more taxing than it is rejuvenating. This paper, and this staff, beyond how fucking rude they are to me at times, is the closest thing to friends and family I’ve got at this frosty ass piece of shit school. She takes that and I have nothing. I really do. That’s the only reason I ran for MCSG president, really, cuz I anticipated some shit like this, and wanted to be nice, and figured I could leave her the paper and I could be the government guy.

Her fuckin co-dependent ass wanted to be co-eds in chief, had that plan without even asking me. And honestly, it was a good plan. She’s organized and a great reader, I’m energizing and a great writer. And we talked about it— I said I’d be willing to be that team even after the break up. I thought she felt the same. But apparently everyone’s allied against me, and on her side now. God, would I even wanna be on the paper next year? All the under-yearlings fucking suck her dick all the time, write on her wall while she’s abroad. No one from Mac writes me shit. No one. Like, once every couple months tops. 

That’s the other fucking thing. The two people who are the closest thing I have to guy friends right now— she’s living with them next year. I finally stand up for my feelings. And my reward is about to be even more loneliness? Jesus fucking Christ. I’m pissed, dude. I really am. Look, I try not to regret life experiences, especially relationships or anything, but right now, fuck that relationship, fuck how long it lasted, fuck what I let it do to my social growth/stability at that school, fuck the fucking school paper, fuck the weather in MN, fuck young douches getting into Mellon, fuck the fact that I even feel shitty about Mellon cuz I’m a poor scholar and my mentor is ass, fuck my hurt arm for keeping me from throwing myself into martial arts, fuck lazy Bad Comedians, and fucking fuck this fucking cesspool of a tiny ass school that is so fucking constricting and incestuous that you can never escape from what you’ve done, and severing one toxic tie means throwing away everything I’ve build for myself in the past three years. 


you tellin me mangas aint japanese colouring books


*packs a bong* see im not gunna rip it cause its a metaphor. *holds it to my mouth and makes saxophone noises* the real high is life




los estados unidos mexicanos

Zacatecas y Guanajuato❤️💋

Ensenada, B.C.❤


In our endeavors to recall to memory something long forgotten, we often find ourselves upon the very verge of remembrance, without being able, in the end, to remember.

Edgar Allan Poe

Everything you love is here

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Went out and bought a can of pineapple juice cuz Waka said it’d make my cum taste better

too bad your sock doesn’t have taste buds