I humbly apologize for the recent staleness of my blog, but who can blog when Britney needs our undivided focus on helping her get her life back together? (Yes, that was, in fact, a Britney Spears reference.)
Anyhow, I deleted my old posts in three clicks of a my computer mouse - and, ah, what a good feeling that was.
Looking back on my old posts, I'm starting to realize how much of a child I was as a freshman. Now, as a sophomore, I am one year older and not so much more mature. I am, though, more of a pervert.
And now, my life, I feel, is a game. Relationships and friends, games. Oh, stay away from the people you're not supposed to talk to... or else you'll get cooties. And the person who is most afraid of the cooties will lock herself up and turn everyone against you. Oh, cootie queen, stop blaming me - it's not my fault your lover is losing interest in you. I am merely standing here, sandwiched between two sensitive people that I don't want to argue with. It was only instinct...
Circle, circle, dot, dot, now I've got my cootie shot.
I swear, it's only a whisper... I claim, it's just a whisper, and nothing will happen. I have a brain and I do use it, I promise, I swear. Once it happened. I don't know what the future holds for me; however, I do know one thing: I'll let it do what it wants. My thoughts, my actions, free as a bird!
Oh, consequence, go fall in a hole. I'm too happy to be dealing with you right now.
And honestly, I won't.
You remind me vaguely of me... but older.
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