I'm fine. I'm fine, you're fine, she's fine, he'll be fine.
Fine fine fine, everybody is just peachy.
I feel sick. I was daydreaming on the way to your house. I was going to write a 'short story' about a guy getting angry and flinging a chair across a room ~ etc.
It was going to be from both sides of the situation. Girl, blames herself. Guy, tired of school, work, being hated, being ignored.. angry at teachers for blaming everything on him.. he would have been concerned about the girl, the girl who blames herself.
And he would have apologised.
Then she would have died, on the way to her love's house.
People are always dying in my imagination now. I get why I die often, it's me and I always have been an object of suicidal or otherwise fascination in my mind. It's rare that others die in my mind.
Rare that I mentally kill off characters.
I won't get this work done..
And I won't be in school, you know the snow will get heavier.. just so that I can't go in..
My shin hurts.
My head hurts.
I complain too much. My life is f*cking perfect in comparison to others.
Screw me. Stupid b*tch.