Picture me. Then picture me walking around with a quesion mark overhead. A heavy fucking question mark. Yeah so the whole situation is really starting to get to me. Figure he'd do better with someone else. But if there were I'd still wanna scratch her and/or rearrange her face. I feel so...Oh nevermind. Shan't say anything here cos I suspect he could see it. See, I need therapy for serious.
I am so hot. Not in a good way, got myself a fever. Awesome huh. Reward for not sleeping properly since, I think, Monday. Yeah and even now there are still files pending that I gotta edit. Waiting for that, doing some patchy extra work, typing in here, making calls, appeasing. Its all really fucked up and neverending. And she's the only one that can be sick. The minute I fall sick its as if the sky is falling down. But why can't we all be friends right? Fuck Andy Warhol, and of course, Project Work.
Then there's Gel. Poor Gel, currently dodging indignant Exco members(we stupidly signed up or Jogathon) and trying to get past the school guards. Worry the sleep deprivation will eventually catch and she'll walk into like, a bus or something.
Here we go again. Uprooting, re-adapting. Its such a fucking hassle but oh well. Not the worst that can happen right? For those are actually bothering to be curious about what I just said, we're gonna be moving house again this december(fucking 14th december to be exact). And its gonna be the 10th time we've moved. There. My blog has been getting strangely honest this year. Yup. Gotsta get me pounds of cookies then feign okay-ness. Uhuh, you'll never catch me complaining, fuckers... ^_^
Oh and I updated my links at last. Haven't been visiting other blogs in 985432346 years.
Lastly I hope Chelsea owns at Stamford Bridge.
Peace around the around the world for generations.T_Tv
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