Naked, because last night I was too lazy to get dressed for bed. And now I’m sitting in bed, wondering whether education is worth getting out of bed when I already know all the material for Myth, Discrete Math, and Lit.
Lay in bed naked all day or act like a somewhat responsible adult?
“But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be - a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.”—Mary Shelley
Haven’t done my Discrete Math bookwork in two weeks. Haven’t done my literature work either. I have no intention of completing the work for either class. I still have a psych final to do, though all my other teachers have given me the luxury of a traditional final that does not require me to do more than fill in bubbles and scribble on a paper. At least my French final is out of the way.
But I’d like to think there is. A good sixth of my English draft isn’t even in English. There are just random sentences written with phrases of French. It’s just easier that way. I’m totally not doing this to annoy the hell out of one of my friends that despises French. That was a lie.
I know it’s only a page, but god damn. I mean, it’s really easy to say, “I don’t like tests [written] in French. Also, I’m cold.”, it’s another thing altogether to drone on about something I don’t care about. Argh.
I’m pretty sure my right foot is fractured. It’s covered in bluish black bruises and it’s swollen. It hurts to put pressure on it at all. And yet, I will not be going to a doctor. Instead I will ignore it. I just have to get through one more game and season will be over. So broken foot or not, I will inevitably be playing the game from start to finish as I have all season. First I have to get through Monday’s practice.
I hate you; I love you, or at least I think I do. You betrayed me. You created me. You’ve done your best and it could have been worse. It could have been better too. You don’t know me. You don’t try to; I used to try to change that. I don’t anymore. It’s complicated. It’s so very simple. You’ve made mistakes. Those mistakes destroyed me. You’ve made sacrifices that have kept me alive too. I wish I could say “I love you.” and mean every single word. It might be a lie; I think at the very least you deserve the truth. So thank you for being half the reason I ever existed.
I regret that I can’t say more; I regret that I can’t write the words of five years ago again.
Happy mother’s day from the bottom of my bitter and cynical heart.
Maybe next year those three words will leave my mouth.
What say you people of tumblr (that actually look at this blog)?
Should I bother with replacing my default avatar, or should leave it up as a giant “fuck you”? Because quite honestly I see all sorts of things along the lines of “personality is important, looks are not” and then I see hypocritical bullshit saying that everybody should have a picture up. Honestly I don’t see why they insist on it when it could be anyone’s face…