a few things:

• I love Chemistry class because all my writing urges seem to occur between 10am-11am. I've already written quite a handful of pieces and compositions and I don't even know why, but inspiration seems to like settling in between the spaces of my mind during Chemistry class that it's become a daily routine. I get my notebook filled with thoughts and feelings come alive through words and I bleed, the blood spilling out but nobody really noticing as they're transfixed on my teacher's explanations and the Powerpoint presentation and time seems to stand still as I sit, hunched over, lost in my own world. It's lovely.
• Let's talk about school. School is okay. Really. Geometry is just a tad bit confusing for my liking but I'm glad the era of our substitute teacher is over and we can start anew on Monday. As for the other subjects, if I just try harder, I think I'll be able to land a spot on the honors list.
• Intramurals is fast approaching and it's got everyone hanging by a thread. Conflicts arising, misunderstandings getting ready to prowl, practices here and there, sweat and trepidation and feelings of uncertainty, it's got everyone on end.
• I see you. I see you copying me. Please stop. I'm not one to be frank but please be original. Why would you want to be like me when nobody else can be like you?
• My daydreams are getting more absurd and disturbing. I like them and I don't like them. But they're a perfect replacement for reality so I bask in them until I feel myself slowly fading away from the real world and my thoughts and the things inside my head are the only things that matter.
• Talking with Joy's mom uplifts the mood. Adults normally don't like talking to me because I'm prone to letting my mind wander and they deem it a waste of time, holding a conversation with a spacey fifteen-year old. But Joy's mom doesn't seem to mind and she just continues talking and talking and doesn't stop until we arrive at the bus terminal and I have to get out of the car. It's nice and I get this warm feeling inside. 
• I like warm feelings.
• Stress, stress, stress. Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety. Pressure, pressure, pressure. They're not my friends but they like hanging out with me. What's worse is that I can't seem to avoid them, no matter how hard I try.
• I miss this. Doing this. Proper-improper blogging. When all the words just seem to flow and I sometimes have trouble keeping up with everything that I want to say. Now, it all seems too thought-up, too constricted, too scrutinized for my own liking. Where'd reckless abandon fly to?

• 

  I absolutely love this with every little piece of me.