I wrote nine pages of absolutely nothing today, and then I folded them all up perfectly and threw them away. It felt good. I could have written twenty more pages if my hand hadn't started hurting. I feel so weird today.
i have to write some essays on antigone. too bad i never read the play? i'll proably just pass it in late. i love when my parents tell me i'm not as smart as my sisters. especially the 9 year old one who got invited to genius camp.
dumbdumbdumbdumbdubm i hate some people and want to punch them in the face.