11
Sands-- I have your books. It's late now, but I'll do some studying tonight and tomorrow maybe I'll bring them by your place and see if we can't make some headway. If you're not busy doing... whatever.
So I guess everyone was getting weird powers today, or something. I stayed unaffected, thank god. Someone out there would be walking around with my brain and my bitchiness, and I don't think I could handle that. Not in this place. Because what would I get in return? Nothing could really make up for losing my smarts, and my bitchiness is what keeps me sane on a daily basis.
No, seriously, it does.
Speaking of sanity, I've been thinking about Heather a lot. Not out of some kind of perceived guilt or sadness, but just reflection. Like, I wasted so much of my life on hanging out with nothing but her and her worthless Swatch-dogs and Diet Coke-heads, and where did it get me, besides the top of the ridiculous Westerburg food chain? In the bathroom, sticking a finger down Heather Duke's throat, helping with her urge to purge. Is that what life is? Clawing your way to the top, stabbing your friends in the back to get there, only to find out that the top is just more of the same with worse people?
Enough of this. Heather's dead, and I'm not. I don't know what that says about the state of the world, but I'm not going to figure it out tonight.
So I guess everyone was getting weird powers today, or something. I stayed unaffected, thank god. Someone out there would be walking around with my brain and my bitchiness, and I don't think I could handle that. Not in this place. Because what would I get in return? Nothing could really make up for losing my smarts, and my bitchiness is what keeps me sane on a daily basis.
No, seriously, it does.
Speaking of sanity, I've been thinking about Heather a lot. Not out of some kind of perceived guilt or sadness, but just reflection. Like, I wasted so much of my life on hanging out with nothing but her and her worthless Swatch-dogs and Diet Coke-heads, and where did it get me, besides the top of the ridiculous Westerburg food chain? In the bathroom, sticking a finger down Heather Duke's throat, helping with her urge to purge. Is that what life is? Clawing your way to the top, stabbing your friends in the back to get there, only to find out that the top is just more of the same with worse people?
Enough of this. Heather's dead, and I'm not. I don't know what that says about the state of the world, but I'm not going to figure it out tonight.