It's almost 1A.M now, another five minutes, and it'll be the start of...
HAHAHA
My sisters just ran in, panting, scared. We just watched Curse of Chucky, another installment of the ever so disturbing story of the ginger killer doll who ruined everyone's god damned childhood! My doll phobia started because of that bastard. Anyway, the two brats were having a midnight snack, but they heard weird noises coming from the bathroom... Ooh, how convenient! In the movie, Chucky hid in the bathroom. Meh. I hear my sisters running up the stairs. They're going to have a sleepless night, I'm sure.
Sigh. It's about time I sleep. Band practice tomorrow. I feel incomplete though, that's why I can't bring myself to turn off the lights and set my Goodnight's Sleep Alarm to monitor my sleeping activity. Just in case you were wondering, I'm not some rich ass bitch who bought a thousand-dollar sleep monitor because I wanna see how I sleep, I SIMPLY DOWNLOADED IT FOR FREE AT THE PLAY STORE!
I feel incomplete. Yes.
There is a fine line between obsession and love. Damn. Can that line be any more vague?! I daresay I am not obsessed. No. At least I don't send him t-shirts that read "back off, he's mine!" Funny story: he's not even mine in the first place. Hah! Life's like that. It will always be flawed, never will it be perfect. Except for the few weeks we hope to spend together SOMEDAY.
I miss him.
I wonder who I'm talking to now? Myself? You? Probably you, dear reader, unless you are the "him" that I am referring to, otherwise, I guess I'm addressing you directly. I have nobody particular in mind. I'm missing someone, yes, but that's not the point. I wonder who I'm writing this to, specifically. The ex that still remains as a close friend? The person who is far away that I call friend? The busy friend with two part-time jobs to numb himself? The sister of the person who is on my mind? Perhaps, even his mother? Or just you, a plain passerby that somehow stumbled upon this life that nobody really ever cares about-- there are a few exceptions, of course.
Writing like this... I feel disconnected with my work. I can be whoever I wish to be. I can't lie with my handwriting, but I sure as hell can with this digital font. I feel like another passerby, reading the words of a stranger.
I am blogging from my Android.
I should sleep soon.
I should study.
...
Sigh.
Ignorance is a choice. We sure as hell know what I chose!
In less than three weeks, I will have to walk into the examination hall and face it all. There's only one chance for this shit. Not technically, but whatever.
My hair is still damp. I feel it's getting thinner again, my hair. Am I really that stressed? All I do is watch movies and Skype all day! As if my last episode of alopecia areata isn't enough, my body wants me to go full bald? Come on! I just got the hair back! Now I'm paranoid and won't stop feeling my scalp. The last time I came across my bald spot was during additional mathematics class, right after I came back from Australia. Played with my hair cause I didn't understand anything! Surprise surprise! You have no hair!
... Ended up writing far more than I should have.
I lack motivation. Please, help me.
That's it. My sleeping schedule is still messed up.
Goodnight. Weltrusten.
Yes, I said it in Dutch to my phone and my phone understood me! Gonna sleep in peace.
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