Faking Sick, School, and Indiana Jones.
Tomarrow, I start my education, which I never really had. I can't read well; and when I do, besides the occausional sheet music, the words seems...backwards, quiet fusterating. Expecialy when you try to read your favorite book, and have to read a paragraph over, and over, and over again. Sheet music is heaven! I don't know when or where I discovered music. I really don't. My earliest memories is either singing or doing something musical, it's just who I am, how I was made. I can't even write well - or do arithmatic. How am I going to survive High School, when every other child ther had previous education, and I did not?
I'm obviously not improving my learning skills, for I'm sitting infront of the tele, its around afternoon-time, eating Gardetto's and watching Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade, possibly because it was on the USA network, and my secrete fetish Harrison Ford, and the giggles that Sean Connery elated out of me. I am feeling under the weather so Buffy, bless her, had some apple juice in the fridge - she's at work now, I think... bar tender? I hope I have a fever, so then... perhaps, I won't have to attend school, or something?
I don't remember my parents, my real ones, really ever educating me. If they did, I do not know anything, or remember anything I was ever taught. Perhaps how to count? I know that. I can count to infinity and several different languages, but that won't help me pass freshman year at Hemery High School, now will it? If it would - I wouldn't have to have the nervous munchies and watch Harrison Ford, thought Connor is cuter, on the tele.
Which brings you to another sorts; Darla and this Angel...girl, man, possibly a transvestite by the name, is the parenting of Connor. Darla... a mother? Its kinda nice. Not being the only thing on this earth different, or odd. I'm not alone, and I can have someone to talk too. Erin, despite the ignorant and spiteful girl she is, said I should pray to God. I would, but he was never my God. Maybe Erin's, maybe Buffy's, and maybe once my mother's and father's but he did not create me. I stoped believing he did, when the nuns at Prague told me animals didn't go to heaven; stupid reason for not being a believer of anything, but I had a dog - Sasha, I found, shortly after I became an orphan, but he was sick. He died three months after, and I loved him.
My hair was pulled into a french braid, and yes, I wore the care bear pajama's Connor declared...'sexy', which I'll wear every night he visits for that matter! I don't plane on doing anything that would have dad, who is suddenly inspired to be one, turn on his homicidal ways for the sake of my virtue. Even though, it's so hard containing myself! I don't always think abstinence should be forced, or that its a bad thing, but its so hard to contain myself! The lop-sided smirk, the eyes...the eyes! It's hard too, and if I was still a Catholic, I'd make the sign of the cross whenever I see him!
My eyes widen in alarm as I hear the door open, and I reach for the thermomiter on the cofee table, right by the couch I was laying on, and put it in my mouth - praying for a high fever, and quickly hide my snack and pull a blanket over me. I would do anything not to attend school - I don't want to go!
I'm obviously not improving my learning skills, for I'm sitting infront of the tele, its around afternoon-time, eating Gardetto's and watching Indiana Jones in The Last Crusade, possibly because it was on the USA network, and my secrete fetish Harrison Ford, and the giggles that Sean Connery elated out of me. I am feeling under the weather so Buffy, bless her, had some apple juice in the fridge - she's at work now, I think... bar tender? I hope I have a fever, so then... perhaps, I won't have to attend school, or something?
I don't remember my parents, my real ones, really ever educating me. If they did, I do not know anything, or remember anything I was ever taught. Perhaps how to count? I know that. I can count to infinity and several different languages, but that won't help me pass freshman year at Hemery High School, now will it? If it would - I wouldn't have to have the nervous munchies and watch Harrison Ford, thought Connor is cuter, on the tele.
Which brings you to another sorts; Darla and this Angel...girl, man, possibly a transvestite by the name, is the parenting of Connor. Darla... a mother? Its kinda nice. Not being the only thing on this earth different, or odd. I'm not alone, and I can have someone to talk too. Erin, despite the ignorant and spiteful girl she is, said I should pray to God. I would, but he was never my God. Maybe Erin's, maybe Buffy's, and maybe once my mother's and father's but he did not create me. I stoped believing he did, when the nuns at Prague told me animals didn't go to heaven; stupid reason for not being a believer of anything, but I had a dog - Sasha, I found, shortly after I became an orphan, but he was sick. He died three months after, and I loved him.
My hair was pulled into a french braid, and yes, I wore the care bear pajama's Connor declared...'sexy', which I'll wear every night he visits for that matter! I don't plane on doing anything that would have dad, who is suddenly inspired to be one, turn on his homicidal ways for the sake of my virtue. Even though, it's so hard containing myself! I don't always think abstinence should be forced, or that its a bad thing, but its so hard to contain myself! The lop-sided smirk, the eyes...the eyes! It's hard too, and if I was still a Catholic, I'd make the sign of the cross whenever I see him!
My eyes widen in alarm as I hear the door open, and I reach for the thermomiter on the cofee table, right by the couch I was laying on, and put it in my mouth - praying for a high fever, and quickly hide my snack and pull a blanket over me. I would do anything not to attend school - I don't want to go!