new // old // about // extras // layout // notes // email // diaryland | |
number of stabs in my chest. One. Mango is having its end of season sale. I really want to go. Mom, on the other hand, is convinced that I am spending too much, and hence she is being a prick about it. Two. Too many History essays not done, a lot of Economics work untouched, do not get me started on how doomed Paper 8 Literature is, and I momentarily forgot what my last subject (Mathematics) was. I do not feel like dealing with anything at all. Three. I still want to check out Mango's end of season sale. Four. I cannot stop thinking about shopping. It was the last thing on my mind before I slept and the first thing I thought of when I woke. I keep wanting to spend. It seems like all I think about nowadays is money. Watched The Apprentice last night, Donald Trump's immense wealth astounded and impressed me, I want it all. Five. It is final. It is official. I am going to be a sell-out. I am going to sell out. Six. A year ago, that would've been a fate worse than death. It would have been death. Today, I do not seem to see anything wrong with it. At all.
before sunrise // before sunset
Previously:
|