i don't mind you coming here and wasting all my time
Hello, that song. I like that song. And This Song. But that's another story.
I AM PROCRASTINATING SO HARD RIGHT NOW. Should be writing this research paper. AREN'T. Are..not? Isn't. Aren't writing. Sounds...weird.
Fact: my icon gives me a headache so I always switch because I type and it drives my eyes mad so LOOK NOW I HAVE JOHN. So much better.
Agh, writing. Go die in a hole pls.
ALSO LOL HIGH SCHOOL, you too. It's just. At school I am grumpy and angry and hate myself and everyone and everything and then I come home and it's all :D :D :D because there's the internet and the kitchen and nobody retarded and nobody telling me to do anything. And there's no worries and there's, it's just, like. Me. I can be me. And it's very nice. And so I forget about anything school-like which is bad because OH HO I might not graduate? But I am this terribly unpanicky person for the most part. So I'm very la la la about the whole thing. And then when I do panic, it's months worth of panic packed into an hour so it's...it's...Ihateitsohard. It's. Fucking. Awful. It's me completely breaking down and sobbing and hyperventilating and so much panicking, no, it's really fucking bad, it's a breakdown, it's all the stress that normal people can let go of little by little all let out at once and they really are the worst things in the world and my chest tightens just at the thought of them. A week or two ago I went into the counselor's office at school and just started sobbing and crying because honestly? I needed someone to tell me things could be okay and how do you ask for that? and it was just at that point where you're like, yeah I can't do this any longer I can't pretend like everything isn't wrong. Before that...gods, okay, it was...a few months ago. I wanted to bake something. (I bake when I'm so unhappy I need to get happy) and I needed buttermilk. Didn't have buttermilk. Needed to call my mom to tell her to get buttermilk. Cellphone was dead. Couldn't find cellphone charger. So I ended up on the floor curled into the fetal position and sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe? LOGICAL. SO FUCKING LOGICAL. Before that. I....was locked out of the house and OH, this one is different, but it's still all emotions I can't control. Locked out. Fucking pissed. So I...smashed my hand against the wall and then my knee and then I destroyed a garbage can and then kicked a wall and punched a few more things and then I had to walk to my mom's work and I bit my lip so hard it left indents I was so angry. Yeah. Uhm. I have emotional issues.
BLAH BLAH BLAH NOT WRITING AN ESSAY. I should be panicking so hard but I'm not, I baked cupcakes earlier and Lost was on and if I don't do this essay I'm not graduating but I might not graduate anyway so ho humm blur blah fucking Christopher Goddamn Marlowe. I missed a test today in German and in Government and I have no idea what's going on either class. I'm failing Computers. I have no idea what I'm doing after high school. If I get out of high school. I am ranting. BLARGH. I feel sick. Cupcakes and rice cakes for dinner.
I really do have to write this fucking thing. Grarrrr. I want to punch something or throw up but there's really other way to go about it then writing it. Internet, you distract me so. STOPIT. no, really. I luffyouu but I ...dammit. bitch bitch bitch. Dear Christopher Marlowe: I hate your guts. Your gay, atheist, Elizabethan writer guts. Also you may have been Shakespeare but I DON'T CARE.
I HATE THINKING. GODDAMMIT. I really don't give a fuck about whether Marlowe was typical of his era or not!! REALLY. And I have no idea how to illustrate the point one way or another. AND YES. I WILL BE WRITING ALL MY BITCHINESS HERE UNTIL THIS THING IS DONE. Mom's like, youshouldgotobedearly and I was like, I SHOULD WRITE THIS PAPER. Also I am all itchy and have been all day. Itchy, not bitchy. But really, both of those.
Cite cite cite. Cite so much shit. I wish my paper was a tab on Chrome so when I flip through tabs periodically I'd find it and go HEY I SHOULD WRITE SOME but it's not so I don't, I have to actively seek it out at the BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN. WTF MAN. DESIGN FLAW.
Was just talking to a website. "Humanism yay. Okay I do not care if he is or not. Marlowe's a humanist if I say he is."
So my main thing about this essay I'm trying to do is keeping it single spaced until I get two pages and then WHAM DOUBLE-SPACED AND FFFFF 4 PAGE ESSAY!!! Amirite. And also, technically, the bibliography counts as a page. CHEATING RIGHT. I don't care. 4 pages double spcaed, 2 single. I can do this. So hard. Bullshit my way through 2 pages. :D
Now i'm just making weird sounds at the computer. Mrarrrnrrrrarghf. God. and now I have crackers. Om nom nom.
And now I may or may not be writing a response to an RP at the same time. OH, ME. Get back to work you fool.
I can write replies so easily but damn, fucking essays. Arghhhh.
Okay, so it's 1 and I need sleep. Fuck me. GOD. Not done yet. Finish tomorrow. Ffffff, me.
I AM PROCRASTINATING SO HARD RIGHT NOW. Should be writing this research paper. AREN'T. Are..not? Isn't. Aren't writing. Sounds...weird.
Fact: my icon gives me a headache so I always switch because I type and it drives my eyes mad so LOOK NOW I HAVE JOHN. So much better.
Agh, writing. Go die in a hole pls.
ALSO LOL HIGH SCHOOL, you too. It's just. At school I am grumpy and angry and hate myself and everyone and everything and then I come home and it's all :D :D :D because there's the internet and the kitchen and nobody retarded and nobody telling me to do anything. And there's no worries and there's, it's just, like. Me. I can be me. And it's very nice. And so I forget about anything school-like which is bad because OH HO I might not graduate? But I am this terribly unpanicky person for the most part. So I'm very la la la about the whole thing. And then when I do panic, it's months worth of panic packed into an hour so it's...it's...Ihateitsohard. It's. Fucking. Awful. It's me completely breaking down and sobbing and hyperventilating and so much panicking, no, it's really fucking bad, it's a breakdown, it's all the stress that normal people can let go of little by little all let out at once and they really are the worst things in the world and my chest tightens just at the thought of them. A week or two ago I went into the counselor's office at school and just started sobbing and crying because honestly? I needed someone to tell me things could be okay and how do you ask for that? and it was just at that point where you're like, yeah I can't do this any longer I can't pretend like everything isn't wrong. Before that...gods, okay, it was...a few months ago. I wanted to bake something. (I bake when I'm so unhappy I need to get happy) and I needed buttermilk. Didn't have buttermilk. Needed to call my mom to tell her to get buttermilk. Cellphone was dead. Couldn't find cellphone charger. So I ended up on the floor curled into the fetal position and sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe? LOGICAL. SO FUCKING LOGICAL. Before that. I....was locked out of the house and OH, this one is different, but it's still all emotions I can't control. Locked out. Fucking pissed. So I...smashed my hand against the wall and then my knee and then I destroyed a garbage can and then kicked a wall and punched a few more things and then I had to walk to my mom's work and I bit my lip so hard it left indents I was so angry. Yeah. Uhm. I have emotional issues.
BLAH BLAH BLAH NOT WRITING AN ESSAY. I should be panicking so hard but I'm not, I baked cupcakes earlier and Lost was on and if I don't do this essay I'm not graduating but I might not graduate anyway so ho humm blur blah fucking Christopher Goddamn Marlowe. I missed a test today in German and in Government and I have no idea what's going on either class. I'm failing Computers. I have no idea what I'm doing after high school. If I get out of high school. I am ranting. BLARGH. I feel sick. Cupcakes and rice cakes for dinner.
I really do have to write this fucking thing. Grarrrr. I want to punch something or throw up but there's really other way to go about it then writing it. Internet, you distract me so. STOPIT. no, really. I luffyouu but I ...dammit. bitch bitch bitch. Dear Christopher Marlowe: I hate your guts. Your gay, atheist, Elizabethan writer guts. Also you may have been Shakespeare but I DON'T CARE.
I HATE THINKING. GODDAMMIT. I really don't give a fuck about whether Marlowe was typical of his era or not!! REALLY. And I have no idea how to illustrate the point one way or another. AND YES. I WILL BE WRITING ALL MY BITCHINESS HERE UNTIL THIS THING IS DONE. Mom's like, youshouldgotobedearly and I was like, I SHOULD WRITE THIS PAPER. Also I am all itchy and have been all day. Itchy, not bitchy. But really, both of those.
Cite cite cite. Cite so much shit. I wish my paper was a tab on Chrome so when I flip through tabs periodically I'd find it and go HEY I SHOULD WRITE SOME but it's not so I don't, I have to actively seek it out at the BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN. WTF MAN. DESIGN FLAW.
Was just talking to a website. "Humanism yay. Okay I do not care if he is or not. Marlowe's a humanist if I say he is."
So my main thing about this essay I'm trying to do is keeping it single spaced until I get two pages and then WHAM DOUBLE-SPACED AND FFFFF 4 PAGE ESSAY!!! Amirite. And also, technically, the bibliography counts as a page. CHEATING RIGHT. I don't care. 4 pages double spcaed, 2 single. I can do this. So hard. Bullshit my way through 2 pages. :D
Now i'm just making weird sounds at the computer. Mrarrrnrrrrarghf. God. and now I have crackers. Om nom nom.
And now I may or may not be writing a response to an RP at the same time. OH, ME. Get back to work you fool.
I can write replies so easily but damn, fucking essays. Arghhhh.
Okay, so it's 1 and I need sleep. Fuck me. GOD. Not done yet. Finish tomorrow. Ffffff, me.