What the Hell do squirrels see in each other?

Do they see another’s tail,

and say ‘Damn girl, your tail is plump!’?

Or is it those tiny ears?

Because, personally, I can’t distinguish between two different squirrels.

Do squirrels ever get married?

Because, if so, there would be a lot of cheating going on in the squirrel community.

One dude squirrel would see a chick squirrel and confuse her for his wife,

because, even if the dude squirrel had known his wife for his entire life,

they look so damn similar.

So they’d start getting it on and the dude’s spouse would climb up into their little tree house and be like, ‘Oh shit! Squirrel sex!’

She wouldn’t recognize that it was her husband making time with the young acorn eater.

So then she’s like, ‘Better find my husband.’ and she leaves.

And then she goes and bangs some other squirrel dude.

It isn’t rude,

they simply can’t tell.

So when husband squirrel is done having fun,

He goes to search for acorns or some shit,

and he sees his wife and some squirrel getting it on.

That is so wrong.

Evolution is too unkind for making all squirrels look the same.

Do squirrels have names?

Are all squirrel names a series of squeaks and scratches?

And another important question

what do squirrels do for entertainment?

Hunt for acorns?

Honestly if all I did was run around Tops,

My life would be bullocks.

Do squirrels just watch the grass grow?

Or feel the wind blow?

That’s bull.

We’ve all seen squirrels stampede across the lawn

What is going through squirrel minds as they run across the electrical lines?

I reckon we’ll never know,

but we can follow them to where they go,

and see a squirrel’s final destination,

and possibly formulate some huge realization,

about squirrel psychology.

When you drink ink,

You think.

You could be any where at any time,

An ice rink.

A coliseum.

A museum,

Learning about the past.

When you drink ink,

You drink language.

You take part in countless people’s love or anguish.

When you write on your tongue,

You could be old or young,

hot or cold,

timid or bold.

When you drink ink

You can be anyone

You can be anything.

You possess in yourself the power to create a huge mess,

Because if you spit out the ink,

And don’t allow yourself to think,

It causes knowledge to sink,

To drown

In pure thick black liquid.

But when someone decides to ignore knowledge,

to gurgle it then spit it out,

It doesn’t mean that it’s the end.

They’ve just created a blend

Ignorance and ink.

You can learn from other’s mistakes.

So drink up the spilled fluid,

Digest it.

Know it.

And when you’r done, give it to someone who needs it.

Spoon feed it.

Dear 16 year old me,

I know that you’re only a few months from getting here,

but a lot can change from now ‘til November.

A lot has changed since last November.

I hope you stay true by me

But not so true that you’re statically stuck

Caught in the muck called nostalgia.

I’m writing this to remind you of your roots.

To remind you that five months ago, you were me.

Maybe you’re still me,

but honestly I can’t see that happening.

Your friend is leaving

Has left, for you I guess.

but that doesn’t mean its the end of the story I’ve been weaving.

I hope you’ve been achieving great things, now that I’ve left.

Helping people like others have helped you.

Also, please have gotten taller,

And seriously, become like a wicked cool baller.

Don’t be a player.

I don’t think that’s possible but change is change and just don’t.

Ok?

Remember your friends.

That’s the most important, because without them

You’d be just a name

That’d be lame.

Also you’ll have gotten your AP scores by then.

Don’t be too sore about them,

Those were my fault.

Sincerely,

15 year old Cole Thorna

Love

Is such a loose word.

We say we love chocolate

But we also love girls.

We love our brothers

And our mothers

But it doesn’t mean the same thing.

When I say ‘I love veggie pizza’ it’s not the same as ‘I love Lisa.’

When I say ‘I love running’ I’m lying because no one loves running.

There are two definitions of love.

Either a feeling that keeps you careening for infinity,

or a word tossed around because human beings have a tendency to lie to themselves.

To hide from themselves.

In my opinion, there are two types of people who know what love truly is

Young kids and wrinkly old bags of skin.

Teenagers’ minds are muddled by hormones

Confuse lust for love and a crush for ‘I must have you.’

Adults are on a race to acquire a purpose

to marry anything with a face.

So they say ‘I love you’ a little prematurely,

and then ‘I do.’

Pure matrimony?

And then there’s divorce.

A force quit for marriage.

They realize, ‘Maybe this was a mistake.’

‘Maybe I can still change my fate.’

To me, love is infinity.

But remember, some infinities are bigger than others.

Just wait for that perfect date.

And if she, or he, or it, is a little bit late

Don’t freak out.

Remember, man’s worst enemy is doubt.

Besides, you could be waiting for infinity years of happiness.

So, girls, don’t run off with the first guy who has muscles.

And guys, if you see a girl with a huge rack,

Go mack.

But when you’re done, go find a person with substance.

A person you could spend infinity with.