I have roughly 2 hours to re-do a research paper, which is due tomorrow….FUUUUUUU….
Yeah, I think I’ll do it later.
Like perhaps Wednesday night, since I have no school Wednesday…cause I get to visit a jail! Woo.
Be like everyone else in my English class or just BS this paper….
It looks good for college but damn, I can’t even get a text back saying it’s okay if I’m late to late-notice practice, so I can take my mom to work. All I need is a “yes/no it’s fine”. Ugh. Apparently it’s too complicated.
I guess I’m getting demerits for being late because my family doesn’t have the luxury of owning 3 cars.
Do you ever have those nights where you’re just extremely exhausted, you just want to end the day because it was so fucking stressful, but you just can’t fall asleep. No matter what you do, it’s impossible. You count sheep(this, I’ve never done), make pictures out of the designs on your ceilings(or am I the only one who does that?), or you read(most likely option for me).
Yeah, that’s me right now. Sometimes I really despise myself for being a nightowl. Is nightowl two words? Oh, who gives a shit right now, there are more important things to ponder about.
Relationships shouldn’t be based on if someone is hott. If your “good-looking” boyfriend turns out to be a dickface, then it’s your fault. I know that sounds mean, but it’s true. I’ve gotten rude remarks about my ex being “big” but really, I don’t give a crap, because he was the sweetest boyfriend I’ve ever had, he was hilarious, and he still causes butterflies to fly in my stomach. It’s a cheesy saying but you really shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.
My heart has been thrashed around a thousand times. My stomach squeezes and produces butterflies when I think of you. My head spins when I contemplate about the past few years. My lungs can’t breathe when you’re around. My stomache seizes with anger when I see every txt message/status that you have typed. My eyes prickle with tears that threaten to break free every single damn time you speak about dating others.
You don’t understand a damn thing about my emotions.
I’ve started to paint again, which I forgot, frustrates me like no other. I know none of my stuff is ever going to go into a museum like my father’s and grandmother’s but hell, at least I’m having fun. :)