"Because that's where babies are made." 4/24/2007
Tired is an understatement. I'm exhausted with high school. I'm more than ready to be out. Entirely exhausted. Things could be worse. I could revolve my life around you. I could be forced to work. My nails are neon pink, and for the time being i'm completely content with that. Maybe I'll be a rapper. High school forever. I'll miss you Parisa and Josh. I don't care that we weren't best friends. I'll still miss the occasional run-ins. I have no room in my brain for Alan Greenspan or the tight money policy. Sorry Ms. Deering, I'm not listening and frankly I just don't care. Two gone, just this week. Drug overdoses and drunk driving. "He didn't feel any pain." I hope not. Deering just decided to tell me she's a mess and just finished crying. If she only knew. I'm not depressed, just perpetually annoyed. The 12th year is entirely unneccessary. There are better things to worry about than fucking dresscode. Why am I enduring a mid-life crisis at 18? There's gum on the floor and I just stepped in it. Glorious. Public education and federal funding are of no importance to me right now, though they should be. Sweet jesus WITHOUT a capital "J," get me out of here. C'mon, humor me.
Found in my room while cleaning.
Found in my room while cleaning.