| Wasting atoms. |
[Feb. 6th, 2010|08:24 pm] |
I probably make the universe want to break the laws of conservation of mass and energy.
On the two-year drought: The ears, fingers and heart are the worst victims.
I wish I found music sooner, or was better at art.
On actually failing an exam: Fuck.
I am crushing my six-year-old self's dreams.
49 days. |
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| Bleeders. |
[Feb. 1st, 2010|08:47 pm] |
I do not like the feeling I get whenever I remember that very soon, I will no longer be a teenager.
54 days. |
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| And I thought you said 'suicidal.' |
[Jan. 24th, 2010|07:41 pm] |
The reading on the barometer just keeps going up and up and up and up (or down and down and down and down) until the glass breaks and we all die from severe mercury poisoning.
(An exaggeration, but would it stop you from telling other people if it were true?)
If only actual trouble was as nice as some people make it sound.
62 days. |
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| Rogers would have a field day with me. |
[Jan. 18th, 2010|07:14 pm] |
When I'm tired of worrying about Physics and Organic Chemistry and History and Bioseminar and everything else, I think about what I'm going to do come first summer, and the first thing that comes to mind is:
Spend the whole two weeks watching videos until my eyes bleed.
And then, I worry about how the hell I am going to catch up on all the things I have missed since the new year and will miss over the next 9 weeks since I'm telling myself not to watch anything new until the end of the semester.
Now, I know that is probably the stupidest thing on Earth to worry about, but the thing I probably do the most after breathing is worrying, and worrying about something this stupid is not as emotionally and mentally draining as worrying about the other stupid things I usually worry about.
That, and liking pretty Japanese boys who aren't afraid to engage in public displays of brotherly affection does weird things to your brain.
It really does.
68 days. |
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| Triangles. |
[Jan. 13th, 2010|10:06 pm] |
I was this close to crying in Bioseminar today.
Down, down, down, down, like that Blink-182 song.
"Your paper is here."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Can I burn it?"
"No!"
My parents are not home. I know where the paper is. There are plenty of lighters around the house, and I could probably find matches if there weren't any lighters, anyway. There is also a can of Zippo lighter fluid lying around to go with the matches.
Can I burn it?
77 days. |
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| Conversely. |
[Jan. 7th, 2010|10:38 pm] |
...or it could be that everyone believes except me. But unlike how it is with gods and goddesses, believing this doesn't make it true. Believing actually kind of makes it worse.
83 days. |
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