Excitement.

Getting to spend this final weekend of summer with Sammy. 

The thing that blows is that my first day of marching band camp lands on our two month. 

Sighs into the sun. 

sorry i in fact have the best boyfriend ever

hes not coming

all i feel
is
dis
a
point
ment

i am a kawaii bitch.

that is all.

hey there 3 am nice to see you again. want some coffee old friend? couldn't think of anything i'd like more, chum oh buddy oh pal.

it's 3 am on a friday morning, thursday night. this gives me less than a week until robby gets here, and believe me, i can feel it. electricity is crackling through every pore in my skin, i am on fire, and i am restless. my stomach pain has gone away for the time being but an every lingering ache reminds me it could come back full force at any second. i do believe my cycle of gastroenteritis is almost through, though. thank all that is good for no more sweaty nights and no more sick dreams. at least, not until i get sick again.
my girlfriend has gone to bed, hasn't she. this is a shame - i do enjoy talking to her through all hours of the morning, and all hours of the day. i do only wish to see her as to do more than just talk. but i digress. life isn't all about sex and candy now is it.
no, its about getting sick and ill prepared for your brother's birthday. like always. fuck shit drat it all to piss hole hell. all you have to offer for your present is your precess, and your bed to sleep in, maybe some coffee if you're feeling giving. will that satisfy a boy for his sweet sixteen? you hope so.
i haven't been drinking enough. my mouth is dry and it's bothering me. blech.
this post has gone off the rails. i think i need sleep, but my pattern has gone so awry that it's hard to sleep at this hour. maybe i'll just read homestuck instead.
that sounds like a plan.

SO.

I've started getting some decent sleep.
It's amazing how much better I feel. Had only I figured this out when I wasn't failing Chemistry.

Tech Week

If I don't love you, don't look at me rn.

Rebecca (again)

As sick as I am of this stupid book, it's getting good. 22 chapters in and it's FINALLY getting good. Ugh.

perhaps perhaps perhaps.

hospital may be in my near future, dear friends.

Update on Rebecca

It's still bad. Getting better, but bad.

I personally adore this style of writing - Daphne duMauier writes in a Gothic Romantic styling, which is what used to be my writing style until, you know, I got out of middle school and developed my own writing voice, harkening more towards song lyrics than actual prose. But that's enough about me.
I love this style of writing but these characters just aren't sitting with me. I'm not seeing enough of Maxim to fully judge him. I know he's supposed to be aloof and distance but he is almost overwritten. Our narrator is too weak, too mousey, too timid. I don't like her at all. I spend too much time inside of her head, dwelling on her thoughts and insecurities to really even think about liking her. I think this book would be better told from a 3rd person perspective, but that's just me. What's weird is that I tend to prefer 1st person (well, 2nd person is actually my favorite but hardly anyone writes in that style.).

This all being said, I am only to Chapter 18. It's getting better and I am enjoying the plot. I just wish it was better written.

who could love me I'm out of my mind

well apparently Mayha could
woah
someones in love with me
fuck me call life alert

so long, sunshine.

spring's here, but yet, i feel myself saying goodbye to everything and everyone i've ever known. why is this? im not leaving. im not going anywhere. but yet i feel i cant stay, that im not staying, that im moving and drifting away from this place, or, perhaps, this world, this realm of consiousness. could that be it? perhaps ive outgrown this musty, backwater town and need to move onto greener pastures. or, perhaps, a place with no pastures at all. a cityscape, a sidewalk-lined utopia (well, perhaps not in a general sense, but for me at least). maybe i need a car and a job and someone to pay rent to and a bed that i own and a place to call "home." not the home i know now because that place isnt my home, its much closer to hell. i think i need to be as far away here as possible. california? i have family out there. family that care and love me and accept me for who i am, unlike the family around here, in indiana, in the place that i hate. i could go to arizona, too. 'cept for the fact theyre not trans* friendly, that in fact would be my preferred option. but since they passed that law, i think ill pass too. its kind of crazy, isnt it? ive been driven so slowly and surely insane by this place so many people call their home. it almost pains me to think about.

Woah.

My band director is friends with the guy who drew Jasmine. His story's really interesting.
I think I wanna work in Backstage Disney. Stage production. It'd be awesome.

fuck me.

im so tired and miserable. I don't wanna go to Florida soon ugh.

i got grounded for a haircut.

sorry for being fabulous.

who wants to be in show choir

everyone here is lame as hell

you dance you sing and then you go home
the end

ugh

i hate myself and want to go home.

mantra for today

i love stage crew.
i love stage crew.
i love stage crew.
i love stage crew.

You.

I need you. I need your arms around me, I need you here right now so badly.
I need you like I need a cup of coffee in the morning, and I need you so bad I bite my lips and tear them to sheds just like when I'm impatient for a nicotine fix. And my lips bleed and I let it go, let it flow, because it will stop with due time, unlike this dull, bitter aching in my bones for you. This headache brought on by the valves in my chest going haywire and sending straight happiness through my veins. The world will stop around me when I first lay eyes upon you, I can promise you that. Because I won't be able to focus on anything else except for how much I need you and want you and with every fibre of my being desire everything you are and ever have been and ever will be. Something about you pulls these feelings right out of my chest and puts them on a slab for everyone to see. I am grotesquely displayed, crucified, bleeding to death with a smile on my face, and on the table in front of me there is the concoction that once made up my psyche - 1 part depression, 3 parts trauma, 2 parts bad memories, isolation to flavour, shaken not stirred. And from the wounds inflicted upon me on this day come flowing the sticky sappy sweet juices of love, sheer unconditional love I could never expect you to return to any extent.

Rebecca

so we're reading rebecca in English class right?

i don't like it at all judge me so hard.

I'll probably do a full review when we finish with it. It's not nearly as good as I had hoped.

someone tried to correct my name

what a basic bitch

who the fuck you think you is

reasons why band bothers me

so
naturally
im in band
what else would you expect from a badass like me.
but sometimes it really gets on my nerves.

reason one high school honours level band bothers me:
bullshit percussionists
i mean in some cultures ball tag is considered a form of greeting. forcefully punching the testicles of your fellow man brings great pleasure to some it seems. fact of the matter these shit-slinging half-tomato mongoloid motherfuckers fuck up the whole band experience for everyone. maybe it's just my band but i feel it's a phenomenon that happens in high school bands all around the world. hardly anyone in here takes it seriously, but the percussion is the worst. me? i never take anything seriously.

reason two high school honours level band annoys me:
the high woods section
in this i am including the Bb clarinets, flutes, and oboes. chances are all of these players are girls, and prissy as fuck with a holier than thou attitude. if you get a dude in the section, he's lithe, feminine, and thrown about as if their toy. it's pretty grotesque, seeing this sight of sheer and unadulterated torture.
i play the clarinet and i can hardly go a day without a bitch yelling at me because of a wrong note or a missed accidental. holy shit i missed a fucking note why can't i be perfect like you
fucking bitches

reason three high school honours level band annoys me:
it just does
that's all
it's just fucking annoying
and it needs to stop

that is my daily rant on my life please attend to your daily business

really?

apparently it's cool if i pursue stage crew as a career. and here i was thinking that any career in the creative field would automatically make me a "crazy lesbian thespian."

im a boy that's not even possible.

i dont think my parents ever dreamed their kid was growing up to be a depressed sarcastic asshole thats addicted to the internet and has more internet friends than real ones

oh my god why the fuck do i watch supernatural.

all it does is make me cry big gross blubbery tears of inner turmoil.

i do that enough by myself, thank you very much.

got the newest issue of rolling stone today.

at least i think its the newest one. hell if i know.

all that matters is one of my idols, billie joe armstrong, was on the cover and he pretty much spilled his guts inside the pages.
even after about 10 or so years i am still madly in love with green day unironically and none of you can stop me.

i mean seriously. go read this shit. its pretty fucking amazing.