| Current mood: |  amused |
| Current music: | "this photograph is proof" -- taking back sunday |
if school were an employee of mine, i'd give it a big bonus for taking the summer off
so i'd like to cordially invite you all (or y'all, if you'd like) to enter a realm of my subconscious that is easily accessible through manipulation and and pissing me off: my bitchiness cortex, located at the core of my fragile, and unstable psyche.
actually, i just got this weird urge to write, freewrite like we did as daily exercises in english last semester. but i really didn't want to write at all.... it was forced, but at the same time, it was free-flowing. don't question me, just accept it as i've explained it.
i refer to this little piece of mind as "letting the pen do the work ona cloudy day in may"
damn it, it's already 5
where has my life gone
i'm one lazy, apathetic bastard
maybe if i got up
i wouldn't be so cold and stiff
another emo-esque writing session?
fuck that
just because i have my own crap to complain about
god damn, just let it out
i keep it to myself, keep to myself
fucking hermit
what's the point of this
i don't feel like writing
i feel like writing
just for the sake of writing
this alone, however mundane
is all i've really accomplished this semester
and it shall be praised
by me, just me alone
and i stare blankly, zone out
let the same music soak my skin
and i'll bask in my routine mediocrity
there's no sun out anyway
and i don't know what should come next
i already fucked up two perfectly good lines
with failed attempts to complete
a single coherent thought
i'm quitting now
furthermore... after browsing my little book of songs and prose and poems and such, ha i think it's funny how naive and immature it all was a few years back compared to now, as it's much more educated and thought through and serious. i laughed, and cried on the inside as i realized what a freaking dork i was....
sigh.....
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