The fact that I wake up in the morning and that is the first thing to cross my mind....
Well, that's sad.
I really don't want to go to school anymore. I really just want to sleep. If this kind of exhaustion keeps up, I'm taking another day off. Got ten hours of sleep last night...
I still wanna be in bed!!!
It's not fair. I'm beginning to not care about anything. I'm beginning to have that familiar difficulty getting up in the morning...
Despite medication, I am right deep in the grave of depression.
Y'know whenever I disappear for a day, Amy starts to think I've killed myself?
Now that's sad.
Right about now I start wishing my name was Susan. Or even Esther. Then I could be a "Herion Girl".
Amy gets to be "Amphetamine". Damn her... >.<
Ah well... I still get points for having the same name as Art's wife...
Well... like it says. Am thinking I need to write something because I'm standing out amongst studious (yeah, right) Colonel kids who are actually doing stuff.
Still at school, by the way.
So... I guess this is me being bored. A little 'Bandits' vignette. Slight spoilers aho!:
"Well... we are bank robbers, Terry."
Is he saying what I think he's saying? A cool, but not too cool, night wind is blowing gently into my face. It just slightly pushes my hair out of place, giving me the 'dork just emerged from series of vigorous blow-dryings' kind of look. On Joe, however, it slightly tousles his longish, grey locks making him look even more the outlaw that he is.
It all seems... normal, I guess. Not like we just hijacked a cement truck and broke out of prsion. Well, ok. 'We' meaning Joe. I was just along for the ride. I lay no claim to the actual driving of the truck, i.e. deciding to drive through the prison fence despite threatening gunfire. It was all him.
My eye twitches. I can feel it, the gentle tugging of my muscles becoming increasingly annoying. Stopitstopitstopitstopit! It's so infuriating, those little tics and habits that I can't quite control. I look nervously back at the house where those two kids are. Should be. The guy... Phil, I think... is missing. Gone somewhere. I hope to god he just went to the restroom.
"Joe!" I hiss, shifting to sit next to him on the porch swing. "Joe, didn't years in the penitentiary teach you anything useful?"
"No, Terry," He smiles, staring lazily into the skyline, "We've gotta get to Paradise. Some way or another. Bank robbing's as good as any..."
I run my tongue over my teeth and throw another glance back to the house. Damn. That kid's not back yet. I really hope he doesn't make any trouble.
"Look, Joe. I'm not sure it's that simple..." He's standing, though. Not listening to me anymore. He saw that I was looking back at the house and now he sees why.
" 'Scuse me, Terry. I got something to take care of."