I dont know what to write really. I just want to write. I am at one of those points again where nonsense leaves my head.

like. if I could paint now..  I would.                                  I can paint now. I just realised that. ha, see where writing takes me.. ?! weird. I guess in a way its me talking to myself and telling me I can. I should. I cant. I shouldnt.  and it makes me think more about stuff, other then just holding on to it.  ha... like I usually would do that.. right!!!

to my left a book. a face. two eyes. there's a man that scares me, and a candel on top of him. a candel infront of me, and a coffecup leans on my speaker. it does. a glass of water hides between my folders, and a spice keeps company.  My webcam starrs at me, and someone could think my name is Candy or ... god! stop. yes, but really its just a mic. its just a mic.

today was a pretty good school day... at first. then it just went kind of slow by, and I still wonder if I am right here. but I guess I allways wonder too much. somehow... ah no. the article I wrote got a some good critic, but I am not sure.... not sure. silly me.  you know how... ah.

I cant put anything together tonight. not even my own thoughts. fuck, how the hell could I go to olearyes now?  never. damn. and this god damn neck of mine  is still uptight. gives me a headache. you might have a headache by now too, with all this whining.

take a fucking cigarrette kiddo and just hold on! hold on.