So I am (hopefully) done with writtens...I am pretty sure I passed two of them, but I am actually worried that I failed the Modern American one because I managed to completely fuck up my second essay (didn't give myself enough time, didn't plan, and OH YEAH, I suck at poetry!). Sigh. But I kicked the medieval written's ass...I had told another
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Alone in a world that's so cold?
Maybe I'm just too demanding.
Maybe I'm just like my father: too bold.
Maybe you're just like my mother;
She's never satisfied.
Why do we scream at each other?
This is what it sounds like
When doves cry.
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Also: John Oliver wins.
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