Sing me a tune in the key of C. Actually, don't.

As I sit here, eating my soggy cheerios with a dirty spoon from yesterday in the darkest corner of my basement, I wonder what I should write. I'm told my life is eventful, but I never have anything I can write about. I've stopped with my poetry and song writing, it's not that great anymore. I have no good insipration, therefore nothing catches my eye before it hits the rim of the trashcan (I always miss).

But I figure, the world is my trashcan, and this birdbath is my ash tray (No really, it is.); There really is no point in using it. I never like any of my stuff, so I throw it away into the trash can (The World) where no one will ever see it. The world has so much junk that we don't need, you'll simply never have enough time to view it all. I'm obviously not worth it, so move onto something more worthwhile in this bin. (This paragraph had no point whatsoever, just skip it)

I love to waste my time. Sitting around at 3 am reading Mindspill in my sweatpants and a shirt i haven't worn since third grade; priceless. What's even more priceless, is I still fucking fit it. A better way to waste my time: sitting outside in sweatpants and a shirt I haven't worn since third grade while reading "War and Peace" with a cigarette. It's quite a lengthy book, but I hope to finish soon.

University applications should be sent in soon, I'm just too terrified to do it. My marks are great, but what if they don't want me? I love how I can use the "What if?" clause for just about anything, and it still makes me shit bricks. What if I can't get into someplace I will like, and then I base my options around friends or a boy, then they leave me and I'll be stuck alone yet again? I know I should do what I want, but I don't know exactly what that is. If I could, I wouldn't be going to school after this year (Maybe that is what I want). But I can't; yes, can't. I guess I'm actually just terrified of being frowned upon for being a 17 year old pregnant high school drop out, which is what I would be if things played out differently about nine months ago. (Ftr: I'm not pregnant)

I have another boyfriend, surprisingly. I thought it would take me forever to get over Pat and Kyle, but I guess spacing myself away from them and sending hate mail was the best cure after all. I thought it would take months, being infatuated with them for over two years. But whatever, they don't matter anymore. Say hello to Jawn Dee? Yeah, I hope to keep him around for a while.

I do believe this is the most I've written in a blog so far? I've been quite childish with my whole "Everyone is out to get me" thing. God, I really do hate myself, but I'm okay with that.