I just need a good journal. But they make 'em expensive and I'm very picky about my writing media. :upset:
Also, there's a bunch of old folks in here using the wifi. Used to be they didn't know how. Now they all have tablets. Probably just reading the news or something. SOME people are trying to blog and play games, y'know! :listening_headphone
I'm just passing the time until my family goes to sleep and I can use the wifi in PEACE.
Since we have that new shed, Pappa' has a new excuse to work on projects all freaking night. The Football going overtime doesn't help either.
I haven't heard if my cousin is engaged yet. Maybe it was just a rumor and he didn't actually propose. I don't even know if 'Bama won or not. Not like I care though.
Lack of sleep just makes me grumpy. I'll get to sleep in tomorrow.
Oh, sweet time. Why must you flee when I want you? And linger when I tire?
I never thought I would be 19. I thought the day would NEVER come. I also think I'll never be 25. Or 30. Something tells me it'll come with the same deceptive speed.
I do wish I was born about five years earlier. I know, all the variables. Things that could happen. Screw it. I'm dead serious. Even with genie magic-lamp tricks or drastic changes to my life, I would. If I had a wish, that would be it. Despite the exercise I got, I was still young. My body was still growing. I slacked off for a few years and gained a few inches in height, but no weight. Still skinny.
Finally the growing pains and leg cramps are slowing down. I can feel the difference more when I work out. I'm tired of being thin. I'm tired of being a boy.
It's going to change. Soon I'll have a freaking pair of wings under my arms, shoulders like cannonballs, and a rack of abs fit for a boxer to practice on.
Pretty soon, just you wait. I just wonder why I'm viewed that way in the first place.
Do I speak like a child? Do I really have a fucking baby face?
Maybe I have a complex. I don't know. All I know is, it irritates me.
I had the worse case of hives, thanks to some yogurt with artificial sweeteners. Four hours, until four in the morning. My entire body was covered in hives. My skin felt thick and stretched with every movement. I got some medicine in me, but by the time it was over, I had scratched so much that it resembled a good case of razor burn.
I was sore for days.
It is mentally comparable to that irritation. You can't ignore, forget, or otherwise do anything about an itch. It is impossible. It itches. You resist as long as you can, then you scratch. It comes back, with pain. Rinse and repeat.
If I lived alone on a desert island, I wouldn't give a fuck. But I gotta hear from every hoo-hah making age related comments.
Everybody was young once, right? Don't you fucking remember being a teenager? How much every little comment bothered you?
It is am amazing quality of the human mind... How we grow up, and we forget. Then, we meet young people, and we do and say the exact same things to them that irritated us so badly when we were young.
That's why I'm not becoming a father. I know how my father raised me. I refuse to bring a life into this world, and subject him to my parenting. Because I know I would do the same thing, or something similar.
This is all writing though. I promise you guys I don't actually walk around all day talking about it. I just put aside writing to organize thoughts.
I just need some sleep and a good breakfast. I'll feel better. ^,^b