Don't feel like blogging but still blogging anyway because I love jamming and upset over SA1 marks and the fact that i didn't get an A1 for literature after averaging everything out and my level position sucks and i've too many things on my mind and I shouldn't burden anyone should I, so what the heck I'll start ranting and I'm stuck in an unforgiving viscious cycle so someone somewhere why don't you save me because now would be a good time.
Grandparents love it that my sister has 5As for midyears. Ok, great, wonderful. Well too bad I ain't in raffles right but the latest issue of ri inspire has to arrive to mock me. We're now not allowed to 'loiter' about in our school uniform so no one can really go out to mcdonald's for lunch. And who were the idiots who went to ntuc to remove every lid off the ice-cream tubs? Why am I so prejudiced against certain sec 2s who are in express but still insist on presenting themselves to be nothing more than drop-outs, thieves, and vamps?
What a picturesque memory to grow up with. Such poignancy, such ambivalence. I could migrate elsewhere to sit on handwoven rugs and eat grapes all day, spouting psuedo-poetry from my lunacy.
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