I used to love school.

No, really. It used to be extremely fun for me. I got to be with teachers I liked, in the classes I found at least somewhat fun, and I got to be around my friends most of the time.

This year? I fucking hate it. Like…a lot. I like none of the courses – except maybe for my theatre – and I like none of the teachers except for MAYBE English. And he’s not even staying the whole year. Dammit. Maybe Mr. Graves, my Theatre teacher, is still awesome, but…that’s about it. My AP teachers…ugh…all I hear is “wah-wah-wah-wah-wahwahwahwah-wa-wah.”
Fuck that.

I don’t like school anymore. I used to be that nerdy girl (well, still am…) who loved to go to school almost every day.
I still look at my progress report and complain about having anything below a ninety-six. The only thing I care about now are my grades, sports, and–

Well, yeah.

That’s it.

Isn’t that freaking sad? I wish I liked it more, but I just can’t.

Now onto the subject of this. Homework. I had a temporary mental breakdown on Sunday just passed because of an overload of work I couldn’t get done in two days. Almost three.

Three days to do homework, and I COULD NOT get it done.

I’m not lazy.

I do my work.


And I couldn’t finish it?

Doesn’t something sound wrong there?

I hate homework, and I hate the amount of work teachers give us on the weekend. It sucks. It really fucking SUCKS. I don’t like having two B’s. B’s are bad for me. I like A’s. A’s are something I love. If I have an A, well, that’s still not enough.

So, you see how that can affect me. It’s why, on Sunday, I cracked under the pressure, I cried, I screamed into my pillow about how I hate my life.

Yeah, I’m used to a lot of work, but I’m not used to not getting that work done.
And I had to take another day to do it. You can’t tell me my teacher doesn’t hate me for getting that one assignment in late.


I hate homework.


I hate school.





Well, since I’ve given up with the notion of completing my homework for now (it’s due at the end of the week) I’ve decided I’m going to write some. But. New book. Always happens. Some type of new inspiration comes along and I’m so goddang tired of the same goddang story, so I start writing a new one, never get further than five pages, give up, go back to it, repeat—-

Nevermind, realized it was a stupid idea.

Well, if you would like to check out any of my writing, or reviews, or just what I used to do twenty-four/seven before school started…check out my user profile at Wattpad and bask in the awesomeness of an amazing écrivaine. Actually, everything there is just shizz I don’t give a fudge about.

WARNING: If you are not a fan of the Hunger Games, you may scoff at my choice of a reading list. Heh. Or my participation certain things like submitting tributes for a fanfic…several, actually… I know. I’m a HG nerd. Not as much of a SK nerd, though. Black House is still in my book bag. Read it twice. Reading it again, now that school’s starting again. Since I started back – I was about seven-eighths of the way through – I’ve read about…three pages. Yeah. I’m so accomplished. You’re jealous, right?

Anyway. Enough rambling. That’s probably all the crap you’ll ever get from me anyway. Rambling. And saying certain things in place of curses. Because I need to not curse. Cursing is baaaaad. Imagine a goat saying that. It’s a lot more fun.

Rambling again, sweetie.

Right. Sorry.

I was talking about Wattpad and writing and my crappy procrastinating trait. Wait no. I wasn’t. Not really. Let’s talk about that now, though, okay? 

I suck at getting things done once I get them unless it’s homework I can do easily in class. Usually that gets done. Once I get home and the computer, my iPod, my music…is in reach? Well, unfortunately, those distract me, and is a hell of a lot more interesting than AP stuff. Trust me. I’m going to hate college. Ahgawd (stolen from Nyjraka, a character of my best friend in all of the world…she lives in California…I love her and him, and his awesome name she’s probably changing soon… Rambling again, idiot), college. I don’t know how I feel about college… Scared for it. I just know I’m going to die when I start it. But, you know…whatever. Dying is inevitable. Might as well die doing something you love hate


You’re still reading this? What the hell? Don’t you have a life, people? This has got to be extremely boring, what with the rambling. If you have stuck around this long, though…here’s a cookie. There you go, m’sweet. Have fun. Go throw it at a hobo. And then run like hell, biches. Because they’ll throw it back. You gave them one cookie. What bastard does that? That’s BS to them. Though, I can only interpret from experience…

Right. Ahem. I’m tired of writing. Contact me on Wattpad! Or hit me up on Chatango! I’m there all the time so I can talk with my best friend evarbiches.


That sounded really stupid, didn’t it?





Go die.