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Martina.
Tina. Marty. Marts.
TiniTinyTina!
An iTram.
An 'IT' ram. (the jay chou of sheep)
celestial beings.
February 2006
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your tagboard here[:!
I am [honest-to-god] lost. I need someone to be here for me, think for me, speak for me, breath for me or I'll just somehow expire from my present state of mind - from everything.
I opened the other letterbox again tonight. It was so full that I'm not surprised that the post office left me a note, telling me to go pick up some stuff at the post office. Whatever.
It's just that everything seems so messed up and warped that I don't know what I'm doing.
Got accepted in Kingston and Lincoln, East Anglia wants a tape. But that's just the problem. Every time I tuck my nails beneath the seal to rip it off, I keep thinking of how I could go to each place that sends me an offer. I could.
I could write back and thank them, then write back and accept the offer, then move altogether and start a life there. I could.
I could even be happy going. I could visit my sister every so often, I could live with a reasonable roommate of my choice, and I could have the cute little Smartcar that I've always wanted. I could open my world, broaden my horizon... but I don't know if I want to.
And then all these Unis are offering places. So many people I know would jump at the chance to go... and now I don't even want to study the subject that I chose to apply for.
Like I said... it's all one great big fucking mess.
On another note...
I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I know it's stupid. I can bloody see that. School is ending, the IB is NOW.
I'm just too late. And it's just too bloody bad for me. Oh well.
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Martina.
Tina. Marty. Marts.
TiniTinyTina!
An iTram.
An 'IT' ram. (the jay chou of sheep)
celestial beings.
10:35 PM, Thursday, March 16, 2006
I don't know what it is I'm meant to be doing. Except for that English essay that's due tomorrow...I am [honest-to-god] lost. I need someone to be here for me, think for me, speak for me, breath for me or I'll just somehow expire from my present state of mind - from everything.
I opened the other letterbox again tonight. It was so full that I'm not surprised that the post office left me a note, telling me to go pick up some stuff at the post office. Whatever.
It's just that everything seems so messed up and warped that I don't know what I'm doing.
Got accepted in Kingston and Lincoln, East Anglia wants a tape. But that's just the problem. Every time I tuck my nails beneath the seal to rip it off, I keep thinking of how I could go to each place that sends me an offer. I could.
I could write back and thank them, then write back and accept the offer, then move altogether and start a life there. I could.
I could even be happy going. I could visit my sister every so often, I could live with a reasonable roommate of my choice, and I could have the cute little Smartcar that I've always wanted. I could open my world, broaden my horizon... but I don't know if I want to.
And then all these Unis are offering places. So many people I know would jump at the chance to go... and now I don't even want to study the subject that I chose to apply for.
Like I said... it's all one great big fucking mess.
On another note...
I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I know it's stupid. I can bloody see that. School is ending, the IB is NOW.
I'm just too late. And it's just too bloody bad for me. Oh well.
|