суббота, 18 октября 2008 г.

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I havenapos;t written a poem, a story, or anything in forever. Now I have the urge to do it again. I only do when Iapos;m really down. Now I physically feel awful, and I donapos;t know if itapos;s because of all the stress rolling around in my head, the memories, or... Actually something physical. Who knows. I slept through four alarms this morning. And my mom trying to call me 14 times, with my phone blaring right under my head. Iapos;m such a fucking idiot.

Hair appointment. Call. Gotta do that.

I donapos;t know, I should do homework. I just cleaned my room to procrastinate from doing homework. I need to clean my closet. But I no longer have the energy to.
My sister got gum in her hair today. Joyous me got to get it out, because my mom was too busy reading her fucking book, and my dad is at work. I think him getting a job is a good thing... But once again, Iapos;m the mom. If I wanted to be a fucking mom Iapos;d go bang everyone I saw. Bahhh.

Tired. Sleepy. Eternal sleep? I so wish.

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