Monday, February 16, 2009

Words can be burned, from your grave

Plucked from a fist, full of straws.

In four months, I'll be graduated and accepted to memorial university Newfoundland with a clean slate and a new set of rules. Me and Quinn are living on campus together, a dynamic duo if nothing else. It's going to be nice to have some one like him to keep me in check though, otherwise I think I surely would get thrown overboard to the hungry maw of self-indulgence and impending failure.
Thing is, I just won't party as much as people think I will.
I really want to do well, impress people, make a good life for myself. I just have to go away to do that. For the experience more than anything else, but getting away won't hurt.

We got a rocketship alarm for the dorm.

It's just gonna be good being able to have Julianna over night/going to see Julianna over night. We're going to the same university, hopefully, and We'll finally live closer to each other than opposite sides of town than now. We're both so busy too... hopefully this will change all that, and we'll actually see as much of each other as we wish to.

Thing is, I didn't sleep much last night.

I'm starting to feel like I've got my own Tyler Durden. I don't sleep nearly as much, and while I'm tossing and turning my thoughts are always on this radical things that I don't think I'll ever be able to bring myself to do. I'm sure that some night I'm going to fall asleep and wake up with blood on my hands from doing something Tyler Durden-esque. Note: If I ever sleep walk again, watch me carefully and at arms length.

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