This Week

Is going so fucking slowly that I want to kill myself.

No, really.

Every ticking second takes a year longer than it should. Argh. I want to rip my hair out. And throw it to the lions (ie. Kris and Steve). I don't think I can BEAR this any longer. School drags on and on, home drags on and on (and on, in case you were wondering), life drags even further on. HURRY UP, I WANT TO LEAVE SCHOOL.

But I also don't.

I have less than a week left with my Qs. What the HELL am I going to do? Shit, man, shit. I know I'm harping on about this, but you have to understand what this means. I can't be bothered to explain.

I'm really tempted to just go to bed.

Actually, I'm really tempted to jump out of the window. I'm going to have to spend the next week without my mother, in the care of Loony Bagoo. It's going to be... well, terrible. But, mes amis, I shall live another day. I've done it before, I'll do it again. Just don't be surprised if I turn up on your doorstep. In fact, why don't you all just clear a space for me in your room, just in case, huh? Warn your parents, set up the barracks, give birth to kittens, whatever you want to do. I've lost my thread now.

Another random thing. Kris poured water all over my head. You would have thought I'd know not to empty my glass over peoples' heads after the whole "Emma Fiasco of 2004". But no. Never mind.

It means I am going to DIE.

Look. Yes, there. Look at that phrase. I do not remember trying that, nor why I typed that. It doesn't fit with any of the previous paragraphs, it doesn't fit with any future paragraphs. It doesn't even fit with any present paragraphs. I swear, I am going crazy.