December 2009
two hundred and twenty five.
Something about those bright colours would always make you feel better… but now we speak with ruined tongues, and the words we say aren’t meant for anyone. It’s just a mumbled sentence to a passing acquaintance… but there was once you. You said you hate my suffering, and you understood, and you’d take care of me. You’d always be there. Well, where are you now?
Haligh, Haligh, a...
I really miss you. Have a good new year darling. →
two hundred and twenty four.
I FUCKING HATEM YU MUM E0OSKJGIOPDRSGA TBRHGJFS\L ZGNAERIJK\;
two hundred and twenty three.
Passed my Supporting A Curriculum assessment, bitches.
33/48… four over the pass mark.
AND THAT’S WITH HARDLY STUDYING!!!
Holistic Approaches To Child Health then the Christmas party tomorrow.
Got muhh secret Santa sorted (yn)
x
two hundred and twenty two.
Yesterday, Jamie proposed.
I’M ENGAGED!
two hundred and twenty one.
“In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw ‘round, “lives a Hatter. And in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they’re both mad.” “But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked. “Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad...
two hundred and twenty.
I’m not pregnant!
In other news… I’m stressed out of my fucking box. I hate life sometimes.
“I’m not racist… I’ve got a colour telly… heh.”
– Donald Campbell.
“I LOVE YOU. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”
– (For youarethebloodinmyveins)
two hundred and nineteen.
“It is thought that an intense desire to become pregnant, or an intense fear of becoming pregnant, can create internal conflicts and changes in the endocrine system, which may explain some of the symptoms of pseudocyesis.”
“His OAP roommates are probably more fucking rebellious than him.”
– Heather Dickson.