"There are two books in America: one for the poor and one for the rich. The poor person does a crime, and gets 40 years. A rich person gets a slap on the wrist for the same crime. They say that the poor person doesn’t want to work and the poor person just wants a handout. Well I picked cotton until I was thirteen, left Alabama and got my education in the streets of New York. I drove a long distance truck all my life and never once drew welfare, never once took food stamps either. I sent four kids to college. But they say all poor people do is sit around with a quart of beer. Look in this bag next to me. I’ve got three things in this bag next to me: a Red Bull, a Pepsi, and Draino, because my drain is clogged. But you see, even if I do everything right, I still have to play by the poor book.”
"Nobody wanted to come with me, so I came alone."
A glimpse into the journal of a (quite intelligent) 16 year old girl. Photographed, with permission, in Central Park.
i re blog this every time because i always want to start this and i just cant so i look at this instead
same hahaha ^^^
we don’t need to ask for directions, helen.
just because i hate me doesnt mean you can
if you’re not fuckin pumped for the holiday season then you’re feliz navidead to me.
one time this kid sneezed in class and i said “goodnight”