*shrugs*

It's 1:23 a.m. and I can't sleep.
I'm 'reading' for my assignment. I'm 'talking' to people on MSN. I'm 'thinking' about 'life', 'the universe', and 'everything'.
I have to write an essay for Wednesday. And go to work tomorrow. And stop lying to my father. And talk to my sister more often.
And I'm thinking I hate not knowing what to do about things that need doing. Or how to fix things that seem to need fixing. Or how to know if something needs fixing or if I'm just imagining things or if maybe I think too much.

Phew.

My sister vomitted today. Maybe that's why this post reeks so much - just 'thrown up' on here - LIKE PUKE. (get it?)

Maybe one day I'll look back on this with fondness. But just in case I don't, always remember Dunja, "I told you so."

"It's like a bandaid. Just rip. Yeah, it'll sting for a bit, but imagine if you let it scab over?" - Dunja, January 31, 2006. 1:33a.m.

You're going to let it scab, aren't you?
Gosh. You're such an idiot.