There's been too many times when I've wanted to say something. but rather than opening my mouth; I bite my tongue till it bleeds. And if you think this is just an expression; that is where you are at fault. Yes, yes. This does happen to me.
It's ok.
so. Here's a toast;
A toast to everyone else who bites their tongue, rather than speaking.
Here's to all the girls who have a swift attachment to their split ends and to their raggedy hair.
Here's to all the families on food stamps, God bless your souls.
and I do mean it.
I mean it hard.
Here's to who ever uses dry reasons and loves the dry seasons; as well as the dry hearts and dry minds.
Here's to my dad; who looks up ballets and to his politics; and how he shyly, every so shyly, asked me if I would like to watch a movie, The Dead Poets Society, with him.
Here's to how I nodded and agreed.
Here's to my politics.
Here's to people who fill their lungs, black, with tar; here's to your addiction. Here's to your source of happiness. Here's to your yellow teeth and dark rings around your eyes.
There, there. I know; I know. It hurts and you know it's wrong.
But the pleasure it consistently, and never fails to bring;
is, and always will be, worth it.
Here's to that pleasure.
this one is for myself.
Here's to me.
and my low ACT score; and how I blushed when I saw it.
Here's to Mitt. Yes, Mitt as in Mitt Romney.
Good game pal. Good game.
Here's to all of you who speak French; and how for those few moments I truly do fall in love with you; when you speak your silly little French language. Because I decided that's what love feels like.
Love feels like listening to someone speak French while you smile at them; not from admiration. No hardly, from admiration; but because you love to listen to their voice when they speak their silly, silly French language.
Here's to all the girls out there; who don't realize how charming you truly truly are. Girls, dears. You're worth it. i.e. Katie Kokol.
Here's to her strong and beautiful personality. Here's to her demure soul and to her little hands that make every girl jealous and wish to have hands like Katie Kokol. Here's to her surety in herself; and to her ability to write and make things sound beautiful. Here's to her fall season and to her counting and complaining.
Here's to her.
My dear.
Here's to you.
Here's to you; who stand by my side and make me strong. Here's to you and your faith in me and my hardships. Here's to you and your persistence in helping, always helping, me.
Here's to you tess.
Here's to you mom.
Here's to all you, crack heads.
and to your drugs.
enjoy those bad boys.
Here's to the sad books written in the sad fall weather that make you sad and everything around you feel, and seem, over terribly sad. Here's to anyone who is writing a book in this sad fall weather.
Here's to you and your accomplishments.
Here's to you and your mean, penumbra, harsh thoughts but ever greater; here's to all you and your mean, penumbra, harsh thoughts, that you explore and twist and turn into bucolic things.
Here's to all you who live in the bungalow of your heart; and manage to never let your thoughts escape.
while yet, exploring them in your free time.
Yes; most defiantly here's to you.
Here's to Justin Vernon; because every time i hear you sing, something deep with in me is being sung to. And sometimes; if I'm in a sad enough mood, I feel my own heart. That feeling when I'm so sad, so engulfed in despair and ultimate guilt that I physically feel my heart hurt; yes Justin, you do this to me. and I love you only in those moments.
Here's to the word talisman, noun, \ˈta-ləs-mən, -ləz-\ meaning: a good luck charm.
Here's to how you're my good luck charm; and how you will never even know.
Here's to how you'll never know me; or my personality. fully.
but how I know you, and your ability to charm me and have me smitten over you and how I have a perfect image of who you are; whether it is true, I do not care to be informed, because my perfect image of you can never be inured because you're my last admiration and I promised to not let it fade. No, not this time.
And if you so happen to ask me, who my secret admiration is for; I will shrug, because there's no way your opinion, whether it be good or bad, will affect my view on this person.
Here's to me and my hypocrisy.
Yes. here's to that.
Here's to the rest of 'em. to the rest of you.
to the rest of time.
Here's to you; if you didn't fall under any of the previous categories in which I toasted to.
Here's to you.
Here's to you and your blandness.
one last toast.
Here's to my mistakes. to my worries. to my shyness and timid ways that limit me and my abilities. Here's to my abilities. Oh, how I would love to develop my abilities and get past how scared I get.
Here's to how scared I get. How I get scared to succeed or progress. How I have bad dreams where everyone at school makes me cry; and how I get scared to go to school the next day. Here's to how I get scared to be myself; and feel happy. or even accept that fact that I can still feel happy. Here's to how I long to feel loved and needed. Oh yes, here's to my longing. Here's to self pity. How I love to lull myself to sleep in my pity; because pity is comfort.
proven fact; from sarah thueson.
Here's to how I regret many things I never said; or never did. That could've made someone's day easier, but yet; I remembered myself and cried in my pity.
Here's to how I'm pitying myself right now.
Here's to my most and sincere apology.
my dears.
forgive me.
Here's to you and your blandness.
Here's to me and my self pity.
Here's to the rest of 'em.
and the rest of time.
-she huffed and she puffed.
and she blew herself down.
sarah janelle.
