Who just read 30 entries? Was it me? I've been procrastinating again by reading my entries from different eras.

It's a good thing I can't meet the girl who wrote them because I would probably ask her to step outside.

And then once we were outside I'd grab her and shake her and scream "Why are you such an idiot?!" and she would look at me demurely and say "I don't know, why are you such an idiot?" and I'd become befuddled and we'd stare at each other blankly for awhile.

I still haven't finished my essay, can you tell? Conclusions always stump me. I don't know how to end things and I've never gotten closure from anything, so it all seems pointless to me.

But I no complain.

Something something, back to the old entries, most of them are pathetic, a few of them are funny pathetic, a couple just plain insane, but mainly there's a theme of lame. I need some new, unchartered, nonlame territory.

I need a life. Or at least a different one to the one I've got.

2003 still sucking. One of my relatives dropped dead the other day. Why is everyone sick or dying all of a sudden? When I was walking to uni and crossing the street, I imagined myself being hit by a car; not because I'm particularly pessimistic... it just seemed like an appropriate thing to continue with the 2003 suckyness.

The trick is not growing too comfortable, because as soon as you stop expecting it the next blows will fall.

So young, so bitter. I miss naive me. Or naive-er me.

<< >>