When Life Gets So Complicated You Just Sit In Your Room Blasting Your Copy of Streets of Gold, Trying To Make Youself Feel Better, But The Reality of It All Keeps Comming Back, And Punching You In The Gut, And Evey Time You Look In The Mirror, It's Just A Sharp Reminder Of Everything You Want To Forget.

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Could I have made a longer title? Writing that out is how I feel when I try to search a Panic! at the Disco song on youtube, and it takes half a decade...Anyway, if you couldn't tell I'm in a pretty sucky mood right now. Wanna know why? Well of course you do! Everytime I look in the mirror and I have to look at myself, and everytime I look at myself I have to except that, that is how I look. Of course I hate the way I look. Sure my friends always say, "No Ray, you're so pretty." Notice, my friends only tell me I'm pretty when I'm on the verge of a breakdown on the fact that I know I'm not, I know I never will be, and there is no guy out there on this planet that wants to be stuck having to look at my face every day. Everytime I look in the mirror I have to except the fact that I'm insanly tall, and that I will always be taller than all my friends, and will always be taller than just about all the guys I know, and I have to except all this everytime I look at myself. I am seriously concidering breaking every mirror I own just so I don't have to deal with this sin! Lucky me I've got my chicken soup for the soul, which unlike just about every other American, excluding the ones I love with an undieing pastion because they are just as obsessed with 3OH!3 as I am, my chicken soup for the soul includes blasting my copy of Streets of Gold, turning every mirror I own backwards, covering my face with a blanket, and smothering myself with countless pillows. Not to forget that writing. Truth of the matter, if I don't write down my beautiful 8o% teen angst, I'll spontaneously combust, and no one wants charred Ray bits everywhere...
Ray + 3OH!3 = Lets Stop Crying, Shall We?