Tuesday, August 26, 2008

BRB, off to find myself.

Ten, twenty, thirty, fourty,
tell me that you wanna hold me,
tell me that you wanna bore me,
tell me that you wanna show me,
tell me that yr burnin' for me,
tell me that you can't afford me,
time to tell yr dirty story,
time for turning over and over,
time for turning four-leaf clover.
betting on the bull in the heather.

Because of recent events, I have decided that I am so sick of existance, and so sick of everyone abandoning me for their education. It recently came to my attention that I apparently have a reputation as an alcoholic, which i am not, i just like to party too much. I'm not one to care what other people think. I'm honestly sick of being so concerned about when is the next time I am going to get fucked up. I hate the fact that I'm stubborn about my drinking so that when someone got worried about me possibly doing something really stupid or drinking myself to death, i saw it as said person not wanting me to have fun without him. I am sick of me opening my big mouth and freaking out over something that's not my fault. I am sick of thinking too much.

Basically, I am going to try to take a sabbatical from the internet, and i mean social networks, until i feel better about life.

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