I am stressed. I am in junior year. I am a full IB (International Baccalaureate) candidate. I can spell "baccalaureate" without any help. I know twice the things I did in 9th grade, but I feel fat, stupid and stressed. This is what I feel doing right now.
When you've regressed to the state where you're sitting in front of the computer wasting away precious time on pointless blogs eating home-baked cookies (yum) with milk (good too) while the functions of ellipses and double-curves await me at my desk (haha, it switched to first person without me knowing... that's how numb my brain has gotten) you know you need help.
Serious help.
I've just completed my psych notes on Freud, who was a very dirty, indecent old man. But a brilliant guy. I'm officially calling the devil on my shoulder the id, and from now on, whenever that little guy takes over, it's not my fault. If I go to sleep now, I'LL BLAME THE ID. If I eat all the cookies on the kitchen table, I'LL BLAME THE ID. If I watch Youtube (oh god... just writing it here makes me want to cry or... rock myself) I'LL BLAME THE F---ING ID.
So ends the 23rd day of September, year 2007.
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