The Day We Caught The Train.

I'm so fucking sick. Of being sick. And being bored. And worrying about college. And sitting at home. And going to work. And the Internet not working. And my room not being tidy. And not being able to study. And my Xbox not connecting. And FarmVille being a complete and utter douche. And neglecting this blog.

But alas, no longer will the latter be a problem. For I will rectify my tardy ways.

It's fookin' hot in here, it is.

I want it to just be Saturday now, so I won't have to think about any of these things. And everything'll feel right. And I can stop sounding like such a little bitch. And I can stop saying 'and'. Fifteen times so far, not bad goin', boi.

"And just like the movies, we play out our last scene. You won't cry, I won't scream."

I finally finished The Book Thief, (I know, I'm a disgrace) and I wish I hadn't. It was sad, not altogether unexpected, but sad nonetheless. Poor Rudy.
"He was the crazy one who had painted himself black and defeated the world.

She was the book thief without the words.

Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain."

And I'm off, bringing my and count to 22, in case you're interested. Ch'after, boii.