My eyes ache and it almost feels as if they are using whatever resources they have at their disposal to claw their way out of my head, as if they know there is so much more to be seen than just what is being shown to us.

Today is a self-pity wallow type day. Self pity is green in colour and has the consistency of weak gelatine, and you can almost breathe it. But you don't drown, you float in an almost peaceful way.

But if I stay much longer it's highly likely that my body will absorb the self-pity goop and I'll emerge as a monsterous sadistic thing; with a definite taste for the blood of others to linger unbanished forever more.

Or my skin could just end up wrinkling to give the appearance of me having transformed into a giant green prune.

I'm sure they'd strike an equal amount of fear in everyone's (my?) hearts.

I feel like I'm empty and pretentious when I should be brimming.

Did I think every thought I as this person could ever possibly think by age twelve, or does it just feel that way.

I like to think of death as a girl scout's badge. Some task you have to do, some lesson you have to learn, and then you recieve it; even if you don't understand the significance of what it is you do.

On that logic I am either extremely close to death, as I do nothing now, or as far away from it as I could possibly be, as I do nothing now... Unless you count doing nothing as something.

Today as I had my sixth driving lesson I realised that my death is going to inevitably be related to a car. I may be in one or under one or next to one; it doesn't matter, but I am certain that some combination of me + preposition + car = death will ultimately hold true.

Unless fate sends a truck to defy the prophecy.

<< >>