THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I just got added onto another diary.
I find that rather exhausting. It's like I'm writing for other people now, instead of just for myself (which, I suppose, is why I started this...To organize my thoughts....I've noticed it hasn't been going well so far).
And, as this person has yet to turn on their notes, I shall just adress this here, because I assume you are actually reading my diary.
I hold nothing against Good Charlotte. They've done nothing bad. In fact, I hold some of their memebers in ver high esteem. Their music is not...to my personal taste. But that means nothing.
I have a problem with their fans. Those girls who turned the scene upside down and made it just another link on their charm bracelts of popularity.
((Charm bracelets of popularity??? Does that make any sense?))
Anyway. I don't care if people don't like my "bashings". Don't fucking add me, unless you do.
{deep breath}. So. My life. And not my pointless bitchings and serious issues with people in general.
My exhaustion has completely redoubled.
And I am beginning to doubt that my mother will, in fact, let me skip school tomorrow, as promised. You know, even though I have no tests and have not missed one fucking day of school all semester.
Oh, and just to let you know why she was considering letting me out, for those of you who don't know:
It is not, as one would expect, be because I am dying here of mental and emotional exhaustion and it feels like someone vertically slit my throat on the inside.
Oh no. That would be logical.
She was going to let me out because it was my sister's birthday.
Needless to say, I was not allowed out of school on my own birthday. Just my sister's.
I find the logic put behind this thinking somewhat unfathomable.
Anyway....I just finished creating a beautiful slideshow on William Shakespeare. It kicks ass.
And can I just say, I know WAY too much about him that any normal human- let alone child of my age- should.
I named over half his complete works (and categorized them into Bibliographical, Tragedy, Comedy, Romance, Sonnet, and Poem) completely off the top of my head.
And the only thing I needed to research for the part on his life was his birthday and the name of the guy he had an affair with.
Which, my friends, just proves that my mind only holds the stupidest of information.
I could tell you the names, histories, and deaths of all of King Henry VIII's wives; the difference between The Specials, The AKA's, and the Special AKA's; I can remember half of Shakepeare's works from memory; I know far too mych about religion (especially Druidism and Judaism...Don't ask); I know what the fukcing word defenistration means (and what the Defenistration of Prague was); and I could name at least twelve different kinds of bits used in horse back riding, why they are different, how they are used, and give the various parts of them. Oh yeah, and I know the four parts of the ruminant stomach...Among other things.
Yet, I am unable to remember what the date is.
Oh sigh.
I really should be in bed shouldn't I?
Because my mother WILL send me too school, knowing that I was up during seemingly un-godly hours of the night.
So, hell, just let me fall asleep in PE again.
Please. Don't ask how exactly I managed to fall asleep during physical education today. I'm not quite sure.
And yet I did. And Christian almost stepped on me.
Because I was laying on the ground.
And Mr. Marino-the-furry-child-molester didn't even care.
On sigh. I am quie bored.
Or maybe that's just exhaustion.
Either way, I must go distract myself.
And stop using so many italics.
Other Quote of the Day:
"Today, let's spell everything phonetically. F-O-N-E-T-K-A-L-E!"
Yeah, and so what if it was ME who said that.
I fail to see your point....Maybe.