then i dreamt my true love unkempt it.

i could write a million words about who i am, or what i like, or who i want to be. I could fill up pages with my thoughts, feelings, fears, and insights into every day life. I could pour out every truth from the deepest caverns of my conscious and every lie from the depths of my mistakes.
but i'd just end up empty.
and you'd just end up bored.

why do i still have energy?

i’ve spent the past two days preparing this damn presentation/paper/powerpoint/handout/piece of shit for my language and composition class.  this grade will essentially make or break my GPA as i know it. and i’m surfing the web. again. and again. no desire to sleep for once. no desire to finish. this night could go on forever for all i care. i’ll just keep sitting here wasting time. writing things i won’t post.  posting things that don’t matter.

i wish it was summer.

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