My head is one big mush of everything happening at the same time. I need logic to calm it down. I don't lose control that often, unsurprisingly, because I always plan ahead. (I'm going to risk sounding like a cliched hormonal teen jackass here) Because letting the world know what's really going on inside my head scares the living ass out of me.
So there.
Anyway, I've booked my ticket to Ireland. I will spend my holidays changing diapers and cooing and losing my head over how small and cute babies' hands are. And if I can resist my mother's plea to come home for Raya and muster up the right amount of indifference to violate dad's credit card, I will travel.
That's the plan anyway.
I will probably rape Oxford Street too. With window shopping of course. Unless I suddenly find a pot of leprechaun's gold in my sister's backyard.
Also, I will turn 20 over the holidays. I was thinking, maybe I should do something extravagant to mark the occasion. Like shaving my head. Or getting a real job. You know, something along those lines.
On a side note, assignments suck ass. Making me in charge of one, sucks horse's ass. I hate this.
On a different side note, I now know how to change a flat tyre.
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