For the first time in a long time, I don’t want summer to come.
I’ve given up honestly, but I’ll edit tomorrow morning.
I am so distracted by Doctor Who that I am forgetting what stress is. Shit.
I think about it sometimes, but how many of the friends I considered close back in cadets respect me? I had made designs for them, and instead of being honest, they said they would use it. Never was I updated again, I was ignored. It wasn’t used in any case, my other friend had made the working design. I think the shirt is cute (besides the typography), but all I wanted was to hear then tell me that instead of finding out later in the year. That is betrayal, a friend not telling me where I went wrong in my work. That is heartbreak because I trust they know me and that I need to hear criticism so I can improve. That is my attachment to my creations. I expected communication from my friends.
The explosions destroyed any joy that was to come from this marathon, and has replaced the encouraging cheers with the sound of sirens.
I’m an idiot; I texted a person I like with possibly the worst conversational material ever. I talked about the weather, and then homework. Wonderful job, toli… just well done.
Should I buy a french press or an aeropress?
So much to do. But too lazy to do it.
Robot by Steph Barrak
fuck my midterm
Just made a pie for PI day. We rocked it.
My beloved phone’s screen is really cracked. Like my soul it’s broken but it’s still functioning.