It was mine, so when your dead and gone,
Will you remember this night 20 years now on?
The lonely night grips me in my sorrow. Am I cursed to an eternal dark with only a computer playing the saddest of songs and a big gulp filled with coke? And not only that I have no clothes even to liven up my dying limbs. They sit there in the dryer waiting to be moist, or lackthereof, to my satisfaction.
It's cold in the house when im alone. It's cold in the house when im not. It's cold, but such is winter. Telle est la vie, non?
Oui, la vie est très froide à ceux qui sont si chaude. Savez-vous ce que veux dire je? Je pense que vous savez, excepté ceux de toi qui ne parlent pas français. Alors je pense que vous devriez le rechercher dans un traducteur.
Anyways, I am alone, I am cold, it is 4 in the morning, and if it were the summer time, which it is clearly not, i would be awaiting the sunrise. But alas, it is the depressing and tormenting winter time that is January and the sun is not to wake until 8, by which time school of course would have began and completely taken the spledor out of seeing it peak above the horizon, as if testing the water before diving into the sky.
Have you noticed how metaphorical I am right now? It's kind of wierding me out. Maybe it's my imagination telling me to write a story? I don't feel very creative right now, and I don't nearly have the time. C'est une honte. Temps est ce que nous ne semblons jamais avoir, pourtant on besoin tellement de.
:/
that is all for now. I must take a shower, and reacquire my clothes that are (hopefully) dry, and do my homework.
salut, je t'aime
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