...I'll be back to wearing plaid skirts for another two-hundred-something days of unrelenting bitcheries, feral backbiting, and minor social anxieties school. I don't want to add posts to prove my exaggeratedly hostile views on high school since I already got my head badly tainted by the possibilities of metaphorical slow deaths in the crowded hallways during lunchtime. Unfortunately, though, I'm charmed back to all those grim thoughts whenever I go online (which is nearly every day of my durned life) and see the people who would be in those crowded hallways.
I don't want to get started on the topic of quasi-friendships. I'll save that for another time, when I feel tragically cynical and loaded with reasons for why such kinds of things exist. I'm just really fearing school, more than I thought I would when summer started, and I thought having a haphazard post to look back to in the future would help.
My present, and all these documentations of the worthless stuff that make up my life, is all about that--preserving barely-worth-remembering things like this morning's dream, wherein Max Bemis was my godfather. Sometimes I think it's eating up so much of my time. Instead of keeping myself in a corner with a pen, a journal, and gloomy thoughts (as I sadly do in school,) I could just get out there and make life happen. I don't know what's wrong with who I am but I couldn't do that without feeling misplaced. I doubt this year would be any different. I'm still me.
It's safe to end this post now, before I discuss what I don't want people to think I know. I couldn't stand making lots of these posts, anyway. From now onwards, I'll try to rise up from making so many of these junk posts. Goodnight.
I don't want to get started on the topic of quasi-friendships. I'll save that for another time, when I feel tragically cynical and loaded with reasons for why such kinds of things exist. I'm just really fearing school, more than I thought I would when summer started, and I thought having a haphazard post to look back to in the future would help.
My present, and all these documentations of the worthless stuff that make up my life, is all about that--preserving barely-worth-remembering things like this morning's dream, wherein Max Bemis was my godfather. Sometimes I think it's eating up so much of my time. Instead of keeping myself in a corner with a pen, a journal, and gloomy thoughts (as I sadly do in school,) I could just get out there and make life happen. I don't know what's wrong with who I am but I couldn't do that without feeling misplaced. I doubt this year would be any different. I'm still me.
It's safe to end this post now, before I discuss what I don't want people to think I know. I couldn't stand making lots of these posts, anyway. From now onwards, I'll try to rise up from making so many of these junk posts. Goodnight.
