Pull the trigger.
I’m beginning to hate my passive friends. Or if I should still call them friends. Anyhoo, I knew I shouldn’t have pretended not to see her. Maybe it’s because I’m just mad at her for not… you know replying. And only being there when she utterly feels like it. I get to meet great friends by chance.
But that’s enough about that. I feel good and I’m doing great. I don’t like martyrs. I don’t see the point of hanging out with a young insensitive bitch. But then again, when you’re desperate, I don’t see why not.
Maybe you, who are reading this, is getting the impression that I might be writing this about you. Maybe it’s you. And maybe it’s not. And if you feel bad, then it isn’t really my fault for writing this. After all, it IS my blog.
Or maybe I’m just angry because of this certain person or maybe it’s because of Mayday Parade’s When I Get Home You’re So Dead.
But you are responsible for your own feelings and I feel that I have type this down or I will corrode.
It’s so cold in my room. The aircon is at full blast. I took a nap from 1-3 and felt a strong sensation. I was greeted by sweatdrops dripping down my forehead and a wet t-shirt.
It can only mean two things.
That I just excercised without excercising.
And that I forgot to turn on the electric fan.
Okay, back to Math.
And a new observation.
“The vainest people are the ugliest ones. The ones who try so hard are too. You’re pretty but insecure. That’s how the world works. Don’t you see ____? She’s so kapal but does she have the face? She’s such a harlot.”
How well do they carry themselves? I agree, Winnery. I agree. Oh, don’t sue me. Winnery T. said that. Sue her. But I’m willing to pay her bail. I agree to the above. Most of them, that is.
It’s so cold in my room. Only 15 degrees celcius. (according to our thermostat.) Widely controlled by our control center in the main hall, babes.
NOT saying that I’m pretty but… there are people out there… HA.
