I've decided that from now on I'm going to carry a small mallot in my back pocket. Why, might you ask? Well to beat people with, of course! From this day forward, should someone make me abgry, like a certain red head we all know, I shall be able to easily remove my decide of punishment from my person and proceed to beat them upon the head with it. Sounds good, yes?

By now you will have probably realized that I am a very violent person. Usally only to those who deserve it or to those who I know that should I give them a concussion, it won't do anymore damage to their already ruined brain. Leah likes my violence. It makes me an interesting person. But I am not abusive to those I care about, or friends. I'm pretty lovey-dovey, as a matter-of-fact. I enjoy hugging more so than the average person.

Moving on. People are really begining to infuriate me. So much so that I can't spell and don't feel like consulting word check. Damn you microsoft and Bill Gates...

I wish I could play the harmonica. Well... More than just one song.

I don't see why I complain as much as I do. I guess it might just be to pass the time.

The fair is tomorrow. Fun fun. Wanna go, Leah? ((Haha, she doesn't even have a skyrock))

"They say that it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but what happens when you lose the person you loved most?"

Random, eh?

"Elephants say "Bahhh"" - Darian.

Moving on to more serious matters and not the the constant ramblings of a sleep deprived teen. I need a life. Like... A real one. Not just a make believe one that I tell myself on a constant basis to keep away the tinglings of depression and loneliness. Did I spell that correctly? Not quite sure. I want to be part of a band, really bad. Who wants to teach me how to play something?

I feel like my head is slowly being crushed by the large burning foot of the demon of oppression. He's quite the ugly thing, if I do say so myself.


Someone should write me something. A song, a poem, a short story, anything. Please?