It’s midnight. I suppose I should have a certain topic in mind, or at least something of moderately urgent matter to share, given the current time and state of the house, but I actually don’t. So why am I writing this, if there’s nothing pressing to mention?<\/p>\n
So. It is spring, and it is rather warm, and my motivation is slowly coming back. Or, well, it better be, because the school year is ending and I have yet to catch up. Recently I haven’t done much, and this year has felt like it has passed a little too quickly for anyone’s liking. The entire process felt like drying my hair. Tedious and long and gross until it’s over, and then it’s too late. My hair will be dry. That was a terrible analogy. I apologize.<\/p>\n
Why am I so bad at writing? So bad at organizing my thoughts. I suppose keeping various notebooks would help, but it didn’t; not really. It’s an entirely different thing, I suppose. It’s disappointing either way. I’m practically a native, having come here when I was about one. I’m disappointing.<\/p>\n
My current favourite saying:<\/p>\n
Who needs self-esteem when you have narcissism?<\/p>\n
And with that I shall leave. Mostly because it’s like, 12:30, and I’m a child. Bye.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It’s midnight. I suppose I should have a certain topic in mind, or at least something of moderately urgent matter…<\/p>\n