You don’t need to throw your car keys away in the middle of a desert to test your guts. You wanna survive? Get your Jacobs wrapped butt down to the CLAT centre and get into a national law school.
Oh MAN! It’s like ulcers galore all over again; the food doesn’t suit me. I don’t know if I’m getting tired of hope or if I’m turning bulimic. The finish line’s far FAR away and all I want right now is some soft well made omlette du fromage avec les oignons. And I’m not even PMSing yet.
Shaleen if you’re reading this, you’re a ditcher and I hate you. (You still haven’t called and I’m getting restless now.) MOMMY IF YOU’RE READING THIS I HATE THAT I WASN’T ABLE TO MEET YOU THIS WEEKEND. (And it’s not your fault or anything to don’t fret and not sleep.)
I’m not frustrated. I will think about being at Tomorrowland. Candy. The Upper East Side. Bacon. *Le Sigh*. I’m SO HAPPY I possess an excellent set of speakers.
x EdgyShark x
P.S. That’s my actual prisoner identity number.