ever yawn and have a tag on your shirt kinda slowly travel up your back? kinda just gave me a mini heart spasm there. note to self, cut tags, they can be mistaken for creepy back touchers. how high do i sound right now? ehh don’t answer that.
who cares about yearbooks anyway? personally, i never bought them, a waste of money i thought, they care about me about as much as they care about my stupid signature, trust me if you’ve seen it you know its not worth a second glace. i always thought i might have some remorse looking back on those days and having nothing tangible to show for it. but now i’m not. fuck them all. all their stupid faces with their fake smiles, i went to that school, i know how it goes down, sure i can talk to one or two of them without wanting to shoot a puppy afterwords but sorry guys i’m not paying $60 for your class picture.
there is nothing more depressing than the day after another amazing yet incomplete Harry potter movie. I swear i need some meds or something.
so hey, I’m in detention, they let me use my netbook, ironically it was given to me in humanities class. niceee.
heart-wrenching, drama queen, shocking scene.
dead. murder. here i stand.
walk away. leave it. just move on keep on ignoring the ignorant thoughts.
from the ignorant minds, who tell you your being so dramatic your a mental-case all the time.
mental or not, you can still feel it, nagging, eating, manifesting deep down, it wont be long now, comatose as you nearly are, there is too much to be done,
so much to do, how can eight minutes ever accommodate? well, we shall find out,
its go time.
so i should undoubtedly be writing my humanities essay, but fuck it, i’ve got quite some time before sunrise, i’m going to write shit.