I have not been awake for over 24 hours... yet. However, I was awake and writing the entire night, which makes me feel just as crazy.

But here I am eighteen fucking pages, a couple of "goddammit I'm crying while typing"-moments, and over twelve hellish hours later. I am actually done in one of my classes. Thank Jayzus!

...even if it is only Creative Writing and I could have just shit on a piece of paper in defense of my "revisions" and turned in my "revised piece."

Now, only two papers for lang 120, six pages for education, and two exams plus a paper for health!

woo. hoo.

Why do I feel like I just wasted over twelve hellish hours, a couple of "goddammit I'm crying while typing"-moments, and eighteen fuckings pages of energy on something that doesn't fucking matter?

Because it's fucking art, and fucking art doesn't FUCKING MATTER.

Gahhhhh. I just want to be a mathemagician, a.k.a. an Americanized English-speaking narwhal dressed in wizard's robes. Remember that, bitches? Yeah well, at this cracked-out point in my mind, I do.

I FUCKING REMEMBER YOU, MATHEMAGICIAN.

NEVER FORGET!



(gahhhhh!)