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I scanned in 4 pictures today at school.. while everyone was staring at me. They peeked at me while I happily put the pictures in, whistling some kind of distorted song. Well, maybe not. Paranoia gets to me early in the morning. And it wasn't even that early. Today was a late start.. my first class started at 9:15am.

I can't be bothered to put up the pictures now because I'm lazy and I don't want to bother cropping and making the pictures smaller, and having to worry about it looking blurry after multiple times of resizing. So you'll just have to wait. Ha. As if you really care. ;)

Tired I am, as always. But again, I'm listening to Dexter Freebish. Oh yes, I have to tell you. We were playing with my friend's keychains and decided to rename all of it. (Yes, she names her keychains) She has this duck, and all of a sudden she came up with a name: Duxter. No, Quack Duxter. Wonder what is the origin of this peculiar sounding name? Har.

I was the one that got her listening to the song. Next thing you know, she'll like Stroke 9. Imagine. People who like both at the same time besides me? (wonders)

Sleepy me. I'd sleep but I'm almost afraid to. I'm afraid of Tommorow coming. Tommorow as another day to haunt me and hate. Tommorow to waste and not enjoy. Tommorow to suffer. I don't want Tommorow. And yet, I'm in a Tommorow.. yesterday's Tommorow. (See? This is the result from the lack of rest lately)

And inspiration from "Tommorow" by Dexter Freebish of course. Of that song "Drive" by Incubus. Either way.

I drove to school today. (gasps) I know, aren't I a wreck. No, I didn't crash. No, I didn't run through stop signs.. which seemed to almost be natural these days. My feet'd just slip and get on the gas pedal instead of the brakes. But well, I have an excuse you see? I'm a reckless little teenager and I'm out to destroy the world. Well.. I'm not sure about others... but I am. *laughs evilly* What are you staring at? Okay okay. So I did drive that silver/blue/gray (whatever color it is!) BMW. I don't care if its old. I don't care.

It's a gift from my grandmother, my dad says.

Oh, I'm sure it is. Everything is. I could feel her everywhere. Her presence. And then there's my mother who believes that her dreams are true.. messages that she carries from grandmother herself. Because no one else had these dreams except her. She gasps because it's relevant from the events. But why is she the only one having it?

Methinks she has an overimaginationcrisis. Or dream, for that matter. But well, everyone believes her... so I guess that I should. Maybe it's true.. but it'll be nice if it is, isn't it?

We are visiting her though on Saturday.. as always. I like it. I'm not sick, but I like it. Its not a crime, is it? I like the peacefulness. I like the calmness it brings. I like the wind. I like to fly.

That's all I can say.

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