hmmm i dunno what really!?! is that a question? Or is questioning a question make it a question?
Who gives a fuck!?!
Just had a very slow double period of psychology, and surprisingly Jean's lesson was boring. Even though it is the only place to feel comfortable in the world. Maybe its because i think the same way as jean. I dunno. again bored as fuck at writing on here and moaning about it which i quite stupid because i must be boring you by telling you how bored i am.
Today i was wondering what it would be like to have multiple personalities and if you could create one. Which is very tempting, create a perfect being (if possible or just socially perfect..............oh the dream), bored bored bored. gotta do more work now. Media coursework from Dave, Business from Camila and reading from Jean.
I am so tired and mum told me I need to cut down on my drinking (rich coming from her) and need to stop coming in at 2 in the morning. What!!???!! Take me away from the only thing that keeps me living (and lonely), socialising away from school and not being at home otherwise known as the 'group'.
Fifty million holes and the rain is getting in
Baby let it go there's more to life than meets the skin
You're my nicotine you're my favourite scent
You're the color that I like to wrap myself around
They've clipped my wings again,
tore them apart and then, left me.
No use to fly away,
to my yesterday, of freedom.
My eyes died back that day,
seeing the hurt I may have done.
Beat me instead of them,
pain is my only zen, of fun.
I'll go where secrets are sold,
where roses unfold,
I'll sleep as time goes by.
So hurting here is where I belong
dreaming a song,
blood on my hands to stay strong.
The flowers in the graveyard are all gone
I don't belong,
there is no right to heal the wrong,
soup's on hot feelin' like a do or die,
I can't throw up
I don't think I even want to try.
You still can't make me cry,
you've pinned this butterfly, down.
My fire's burning out,
kill my flame without, a frown.
And starving hurts the soul,
when you're hungry for, some love.
So if I close my eyes,
I can really fly, above.
I'll go where secrets are sold,
where roses unfold,
I'll sleep as time goes by.
So hurting here is where I belong
dreaming a song,
blood on my hands to stay strong.
The flowers in the graveyard are all gone
I don't belong,
there is no right to heal the wrong,
soup's on hot feelin' like a do or die,
I can't throw up
I don't think I even want to tryyy
Just had a very slow double period of psychology, and surprisingly Jean's lesson was boring. Even though it is the only place to feel comfortable in the world. Maybe its because i think the same way as jean. I dunno. again bored as fuck at writing on here and moaning about it which i quite stupid because i must be boring you by telling you how bored i am.
Today i was wondering what it would be like to have multiple personalities and if you could create one. Which is very tempting, create a perfect being (if possible or just socially perfect..............oh the dream), bored bored bored. gotta do more work now. Media coursework from Dave, Business from Camila and reading from Jean.
I am so tired and mum told me I need to cut down on my drinking (rich coming from her) and need to stop coming in at 2 in the morning. What!!???!! Take me away from the only thing that keeps me living (and lonely), socialising away from school and not being at home otherwise known as the 'group'.
Fifty million holes and the rain is getting in
Baby let it go there's more to life than meets the skin
You're my nicotine you're my favourite scent
You're the color that I like to wrap myself around
They've clipped my wings again,
tore them apart and then, left me.
No use to fly away,
to my yesterday, of freedom.
My eyes died back that day,
seeing the hurt I may have done.
Beat me instead of them,
pain is my only zen, of fun.
I'll go where secrets are sold,
where roses unfold,
I'll sleep as time goes by.
So hurting here is where I belong
dreaming a song,
blood on my hands to stay strong.
The flowers in the graveyard are all gone
I don't belong,
there is no right to heal the wrong,
soup's on hot feelin' like a do or die,
I can't throw up
I don't think I even want to try.
You still can't make me cry,
you've pinned this butterfly, down.
My fire's burning out,
kill my flame without, a frown.
And starving hurts the soul,
when you're hungry for, some love.
So if I close my eyes,
I can really fly, above.
I'll go where secrets are sold,
where roses unfold,
I'll sleep as time goes by.
So hurting here is where I belong
dreaming a song,
blood on my hands to stay strong.
The flowers in the graveyard are all gone
I don't belong,
there is no right to heal the wrong,
soup's on hot feelin' like a do or die,
I can't throw up
I don't think I even want to tryyy