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Abscence Sharpens Love, But Prescence Strengthens It

The Music In Us

crushingroses95 [black] [purple]
I was born in Demopolis, Alabama, on New Year's day 1995. I moved to Florida when I was two, just my mom and I. My first ever rock band was 30 Seconds To Mars, followed by a lot of punk, rock, pop, screamo, and a mixture of all of those "genres" before I discovered Paste magazine. Now I don't limit myself to genres, or at least I try not to, I'm having trouble with some hip-hop, and some country. I'm a sucker for a good love ballad, or a shredding song about pain, or a scathing oath of revenge. I've been writing since I was little, but not very well. I needed a place where people I have no connection to whatsoever can comment on my attepts at putting something other than gobbldey gook. I like bright clothes, and dark colors, I want 1,000 bracelets, and five piercings in each ear. My best friend is a girl named Kori, she'd never not been there for me. My own personal Angel is a boy named T.J. Weiner (it's pronounced wine-er, he would want me to tell you that), a brilliant recovering slacker with a huge and confused heart, and vague dreams of being a guitarist. My go to person for ridiculouse, random conversation is my friend Seth, a slightly metro genius with a penchant for bringing up random things at random times. And my go to person for every problem I have ever had is my mom, an understanding, open minded, OCD, annoying mother, english teacher who instilled in me since the day I was born a love of humans, eccentricities, human connection, reading, and writing.I'm going to college twice, once to double major in journalism and music, and again to learn to be an audio engineer. The things I look for first in a man (when it comes to looks) are his hands, his eyes, his feet, and his smile, awesome hair doesn't hut either. As for personality, it all depends. I love wearing jeans that just a little bit to long, so that when you walk, the hem stays under your heel. This drives my mom crazy, so I only do that with one of my pairs of jeans. I could sit here talking forever about keyboards, confessions, and fathers, but chances are, your not still reading this anyway.

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