| Current mood: | crazy |
Indeed you were my first real heart ache
Monday Monday Monday. I started the lovely school day by falling asleep at 4 am and waking up at a fresh 5:30am. I was surely high today. I think I just had the best day of my life. I laughed so much today and i bounced everywhere. It was if i was some sort of magical pixie twirling around in an endless field of opium. lol. Obviously, the affects of no sleep have made me crazy, but thats ok. eh? I wore many colors today... my knee high socks were green, my sweater was burgandy, my mittins were pink, my skirt was tan, my scarf was orange, my coat was black, and my hair is blonde. Something about many colors upon me just makes me happy. I would die without color really. It is what inspires me into happiness. It is what drives me into pixie twirls. I do look like a carrot. I'm a carrot and mr. ward wants to rape my hair. The art teacher is getting on my nerves though. He is just driving me crazy. Must he always yell at me throughout the entire class period. I don't know why i have to explain my projects to him and he doesn't even undestand it when i explain it to him. He's such a silly man. Spanish.............. poooo on you.
By the way i think my music limits my vocabulary. I don't know if the endless girl fronted bands are bad or not... or maybe i'm just retarded and no one ever bother to explain it to me... but i really don't write or explain things as otheres do. How can one person be so odd? Hmmm.
I went to the mall with Kim after school and we went into the exotic panty store in Patrick Henry... i must admit, i rather like it. SO many lacy and frilly things and pinks and see throughs. lol. Garder belts... my new obsession. I shall indeed be a pin-up girl. lol.... with small breast and big hips. Poo. really though, i rather like the idea of being a pinup girl OR perhaps my brain has been warped and i secretly strive to be a prostitute. Hmm. Well... hm.... lets sleep on this. really though... i don't think sex constantly can be so wonderful. Yuck.
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