Friday, January 23, 2004
i only write this for the loveless. hand over my heart, gun to my head i swear to fucking god i’m through with you and this town (i’m the worst liar). ill be at your stairs late at night to kiss you on the mouth and keep all those secrets from coming out. i want to watch you undress through key holes. i want to stop myself from only thinking of you. get me to a hospital. get me to a church. i want to be bandaged and blessed. i want to see the country from a hearse. fuck it if you ever read this thing, this isn’t about you. none of this is for you.

Sunday, August 10, 2003
i don't get why you don't see how much of a joke you really are. you project all of your hatred for yourself on other people. you're tongue works fast and hard one of these days your self-esteem will catch up.

i won't waste anymore time on this.

thanks for teaching me how to feel cheap and shitty.
i just figured i would return the favor.

Saturday, June 28, 2003
so yeah leaving. sorry i didn't spend time with anyone. sorry to the people who helped me make the little time with them as miserable as possible. when i am an old and bitter man i will be sure to send you flowers and my thanks.

onto other stuff, i need a girlfriend. if you are interested here is the criteria:

1. you can't know me from my band
2. you can't make out with other people while i am out of town
3. you can't fuck my friends
4. you should like cherry coke, 80s movies, toys, nightmare before christmas, pbandj
actually i don't like girls enough to date one. sorry.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004
sometimes I wish it never even began.
My name is pete. I play in fall out boy. I am writing this from milemarker 99 on the I-5. I am not sure what I am supposed to write in here (but even writers block couldn’t touch me). This is the place where I will whine and complain. Polish my ego. State my opinions as fact. Do grudge maintinence. Tell you about how I wish you knew what it was like to fall asleep next to your big eyes. This is where I will take my bad day out on you. and let you swing with my moods. Let out a couple secrets and then try to take them back. I am sorry my sarcasm doesn’t translate that well on the computer screen (you can download a new program to help you if you are having problems and have windows 98 or better called: I don’t care).

Sometimes it feels like I’d die with out all the attention.

Pickupthephone. Tellmehowitgoes. Fallasleep. Dontdreamofthis. Crashyourcar. Tellthedoctorstomailmetheblood.

Friday, September 18, 2006
sometimes love is about getting even. but sometimes it is about how you are the sun and nothing can shine quite as bright as you. nothing is the same at 6 am. somehow the things we say mean more in corners of dancefloors and we focus on love below the waist and outside of the head. "dont you want to get better"- i just dont want you to worry. "dont you want to get better" - tonight i do. the way they say "youre committing slow suicide" when someone lights up or cuts loose. but arent we all. everything we do just shortens our life, every breath is one less. but its what makes everything so treasured. recovery is the new drug. im in love with lovers who dont love me except under the pale light of the moon. im sleeping in my driveway tonight dreaming of sleeping in snow or gravel or whatever is next to you.... thank god, disappointment has a short shelf life. i want to buy (uni)som(e) sleep but over the counter doesnt cut it whether it be hearts or capsules. i love you in a holding back your hair kind of way. wreck it all, one heart at a time. sleepovers are as good at they were 10 years ago. my dog is proof of puppy love. hollywood is a good story. but best friends are better.

sing into a polygraph. its not all its cracked up to be. talking isnt good for anything ever.

Friday, February 28, 2006
an open letter to pete wentz.

since we're discussing sellouts lets discuss how when kids give you presents you laugh at them and throw it straight in the trash. oh yeah, ive seen it many times. lets talk about how you talk shit about the fat girls that are your fans and mock their letters. you are fucking undeserving of every ounce of attention you've ever gotten. from every one of your calculated business moves to your "spontaneous" jumps in the crowd parts to your well rehearsed cliche lines you've been spouting for 400 shows in a row. you're boring, contrived and old.

"oooh, no one loves me , its sooo hard being on magazine covers and tv shows. someone save me from me." what are you, fucking 12? go light your little candles ask yourself why no one will ever truly love you. its amazing no one ha s caught on to your little fucking show. you're nothing more than a shitty opportunist business man with even shittier fashion sense.

so pack up and move to whatever million dollar house you've picked out in california paid for by your lies and hypocrisy and deceit and selfishness and over medicate yourself like youve been doing for years...because guess what? no one wants you here anymore. you are not welcome. you fucking sell out.