Oh Time. Must you truly fly?
There's something painfully beautiful about a sakura blossom that's half-wilted in a light that is barely clear enough to distinguish the pinkish tinge. The weather's been severely undecisive lately. Between oscillating (My prosewriting vocab is slowly being encroached upon by my research/engineering dorkiness. Gah) temperature and dastardly winds, the delicate cherry blossoms are slowly loosing their aura of the ethereal. They've already paid the price for the weather, really! I mean, there was that one-week-snow-storm-freak-of-nature thing that happened in February that closed the University for five full school days. How awful the campus looked then, and the sakura trees were devastated!
What am I venting about? Trees? Huh. I must not have enough homework.
Oh. No. That's a lie. I have a Japanese speech, research presentation, chemical engineering problems, fluid problems, and organic reading to do. What am I thinking?
Am I thinking at all?
Do I have anything left to think with?
Ah the beauty of rhetorical questions.
Still, I miss my cherry blossoms.
(And my Ouran daydreams. Why oh why did I ever decide to get the sound track, I've had this on repeat forever. I miss you Ouran, why can't I just study there?)
What am I venting about? Trees? Huh. I must not have enough homework.
Oh. No. That's a lie. I have a Japanese speech, research presentation, chemical engineering problems, fluid problems, and organic reading to do. What am I thinking?
Am I thinking at all?
Do I have anything left to think with?
Ah the beauty of rhetorical questions.
Still, I miss my cherry blossoms.
(And my Ouran daydreams. Why oh why did I ever decide to get the sound track, I've had this on repeat forever. I miss you Ouran, why can't I just study there?)