And for the first time in four years, i didn't cry
It's three am and my bed is covered in dirty dishes, crumpled newspaper, and empty bookbags. And the usual tidy stack of books in the corner. This is definite the bed of a singleton.
Thanks to some rather bad advice from my mom about taking zyrtec in the middle of the day, i spent most of my birthday succumbing to exhaustion. I then ate an entire pint of Bluebell Cookies & Creme ice cream and have been wanting to vomit ever since.
In the next hour i need to read 300 pages of essay anthology and then figure out what wonderful things i'm going to say for ten minutes tomorrow in english class. I'm beginning to realize just what thankless work book reviewing really is. I have a less than a second and a half for each page I read. Not funny.
After a strange almost two week of silence, save a forced response to my freakout Shannon has finally messaged me back about his busy life and about a girl dying at his prom from a crushed skull (complete fiction). The good news is that my obsession has subsided; my fever for shannon has broken which may make me a healthier and saner person to be in a relationship with, but i'm pretty sure that the absence of fire is a bad thing. I think i'm over it.
I think the newest mouse is dying. It's looked sickly for the past few days, and sort of hobbles around the tank rather than running spastically. At least it had the decency to live out my birthday, though.
Thanks to some rather bad advice from my mom about taking zyrtec in the middle of the day, i spent most of my birthday succumbing to exhaustion. I then ate an entire pint of Bluebell Cookies & Creme ice cream and have been wanting to vomit ever since.
In the next hour i need to read 300 pages of essay anthology and then figure out what wonderful things i'm going to say for ten minutes tomorrow in english class. I'm beginning to realize just what thankless work book reviewing really is. I have a less than a second and a half for each page I read. Not funny.
After a strange almost two week of silence, save a forced response to my freakout Shannon has finally messaged me back about his busy life and about a girl dying at his prom from a crushed skull (complete fiction). The good news is that my obsession has subsided; my fever for shannon has broken which may make me a healthier and saner person to be in a relationship with, but i'm pretty sure that the absence of fire is a bad thing. I think i'm over it.
I think the newest mouse is dying. It's looked sickly for the past few days, and sort of hobbles around the tank rather than running spastically. At least it had the decency to live out my birthday, though.