Loose Feet

I am so sick of writing papers.

I wonder when you walk down the street how many people actually look at you. And how many people just give you that once-over that makes them feel like they're doing something.

I'm sitting across from Buffy on a couch that probably a million McGill students have drooled on and I can't do my work. Why can't I do my work?

I'm not cut out to be a student. That's just it. It's harder than looks, you know. Go on, you can make fun of me. But this is really how I feel. (Really. I think.)

Lunchtime.

What do you think academics do with their life? Can you really imagine a life where all you think about is academics? (And when you're not, you're probably too drunk to think)
I don't really want that.

I'm love with the person who hates me and I hate the person who loves me. Sigh.

Another emo whining blog for people all across the world to reap up in their complaints against the growing world of technology.