Yes/No
So it’s been awhile since I’ve written. I’m sorry for neglecting you, cyberspace dearest. It is far too warm. I have been bathing in silk, rosewater, and the blood of young virgins, but alas! To no avail. I look like a vampire, but without any eyes. On my face.
Yesterday I realised that I should figure out whether I want to go to Melbourne or not. Or whether I want to even continue with med. I re-realised that I should figure out whether I want to go to Melbourne or not. Or whether I want to even continue with med. I really could spend the rest of my life writing essays and dissertations on the most obscure of German Romantic Literature. Or Goethe or Carroll or strange porny eastern european fairytale series with little girls in them. I talked to mum, and her exact words on the matter were, “Well fuck that, let’s go shopping.” $30,000 worth of Paul Smith suits later, I sit here, dazed, satisfied, and decidedly apathetic about Melbourne. It was like a chocolate binge, Sheeba. Or an acid binge.
Anyway there is a boy with my name written on him. It is what you’re thinking.
Yesterday I realised that I should figure out whether I want to go to Melbourne or not. Or whether I want to even continue with med. I re-realised that I should figure out whether I want to go to Melbourne or not. Or whether I want to even continue with med. I really could spend the rest of my life writing essays and dissertations on the most obscure of German Romantic Literature. Or Goethe or Carroll or strange porny eastern european fairytale series with little girls in them. I talked to mum, and her exact words on the matter were, “Well fuck that, let’s go shopping.” $30,000 worth of Paul Smith suits later, I sit here, dazed, satisfied, and decidedly apathetic about Melbourne. It was like a chocolate binge, Sheeba. Or an acid binge.
Anyway there is a boy with my name written on him. It is what you’re thinking.