‘Cause you once used to think there was nothing sexier than a dude with guyliner and jet-black flat-ironed hair.
Pretending you knew the words to that one part of "Sugar, We're Goin' Down."
It's actually "Drop a heart, break a name / We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team," but you just mumbled along.
And your thirst for Pete Wentz was wayyyy too scary.
You were so jealous when he married Ashlee Simpson.
Putting Dashboard Confessional lyrics on your AIM.
Chris Carrabba knew your tortured middle school soul.
Cutting your own side bangs and thinking they looked good.
You convinced yourself that they looked great.
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