|must have haircut since signing of school clearance requires semi-military-head-form hairstyle for males. goodbye, shield of my flailing lack of self-esteem.|
|the father of one of my friends. him and her are both the type of persons likely to be described in a Haruki Murakami novel.|
at school, we barely had nothing to do since the teachers hypothetically considered yesterday as our final day already and sure enough they had food in the faculty office. wait, what do teachers eat anyways? surely their cult of pedagogical violence involves mastication of human fetus and spaghetti made of brains of students whose cardiac arrests were cause by their brutally sarcastic exams.
|oh you special special person~ <3|
and then submission of the myths our class had fabricated for Mythology class. we are already done with it since yesterday because i am an earnest writer (kidding.) and have finished it quickly. my two groupmates are lucky because all they had to do was type and print it and then relax like some basic bitches. the three of us just watched how panicked everybody else is with their prose and were like: "
as i am writing this, i am also Photoshop-cleaning some drawings (which are appearing in this entry) i did today. i am also totally digging the playlist Charlie did for Patrick in the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower. it's called One Winter and i absolutely love all songs in it except Scarborough Fair. sorry, Simon & Garfunkel.
|so jealous of couples who love and lust each other equally|
|Miss Del Rey, will you serve me a lemonade|
on the way home i was listening to this and unintentionally imagined my death and funeral and i was "assuming" she would cry. i ended up teary-eyed too. how abnormal.