(no subject)
I found a letter my sister wrote to Jesse McCartney.
Here it is.
Dear Jesse Mccartney,
E-mail me call me write me. Oh, you rock my world.
I cant wait till you get a new CD out.
Give me ya # I won't Give it to no one.
Speaking of musicians, I finally listened/watched JT's song, Sexy Back and got turned on. I still say we're meant to be.
I mean, come on! He tertally stared into my eyes at the soundcheck.
I wouldn't say I'm excited about school starting back, just excited about what happens when I graduate. I wish Ms. Ivy liked me and helped me pick better classes my freshman year. I'm going to be taking chemestry my senior year. I also wish that she had told me what my GPA was last year, so I had something to go by. But, no! "We only give seniors their GPA. Besides, you've got a whole other year before you need to think about all that stuff," all said in her whisper.
Enough bitching.
I really can't complain about anything. Well, I shouldn't.
My emotions make me dizzy. I just thought about Mrs. Hays and share class. I want to cry. Not because I miss Brett Jones or anything. I don't mean to be lame, but I hardly have any memories of me thinking about...well, anything. (Besides a select few shitheads.)
I miss having my own car. I miss last summer. I miss Taylor. I miss Mrs. Waycadillac's (or Mrs. Way-way, if you prefer so) class and Devin and Marcus Rogers (remember him?) stripping on the desks. (This was fourth grade, mind you.)
I promised I wouldn't do this.
This is my first and last one.
I promise.