i have school tomorrow.

It's half past two in the morning.
there's school tomorrow.

My body can't seem to find sleep. It's exhausted, from the scrumming, and the abrasions all itch. There's a game this friday.

I've been doing a lot of work these last two weeks. I've been looking for someone. I'm pretty sure now that I've found some parts of him. I think there still pieces to complete.

Her face still haunts me. Her voice echoes in my head sometimes. I feel I need closure to an unfortunate event. I need to speak with her. I need to talk to her. I need to clarify and regain. I wonder when that will happen. Certainly, it won't take place tomorrow.

My sketchbook is nearly full, it's at the three quarter mark. It's a scary experience, now since I have gotten attached to it. I love to look through the pages, and see my thoughts and sketches and additions. I wonder how long more it will last, and what the next one will be.

My life is currently severly depressed, I'm taking SSRIs to elevate the mood. I've spent much time reflecting, justifying the mood, the reasons, the existance of such foul days. It comes to me that such three annoying reason, so vexing to me. A girl hangs over my head, she is a spectre to words unsaid. Teachers are there alongside the world, on the left, the useless, they do not know, too the right the good, encouragement lines their countenances. Stress hangs around my life, I don't have enough games in it, to give me the endorphins to release it.

I like that word, endorphins. Sounds so free and easy, so much uplifting and pleasure they bring. Like a pair of dolphins, alone, breaching the sunset waves into the orange horizon they seek. It reminds me, the image, how much of a romantic I am. In love with ideas and words and pictures, that I wish to share.

I had a glass of whiskey tonight. It was old whiskey, aged 12 years, and probably another decade from the looks of the bottle. My parents don't drink whiskey, but i do. It tasted sweet and firery, and warmed my insides with each slug. Much like my own personality. Maybe that's why I like whiskey. It's warm. It was better than the two cans of beer I had last night. Whiskey clearly is my drink, even now it warms my belly. But notice, I'm not high. I wish I could get high on less, it would definitely be cheaper.

I have a photo in my book. A pair of eyes. They are beautiful eyes. Pretty and bright, caring and kind. An innate delligence and passion seem to exude from them. I wish I could let their owner know what eyes she possesses.

I think of tomorrow. A place I haven't laid a foot into in two weeks. A life that really was nonexistent, ends that I left unfinished, ties and business that must be done. I'm going back there tomorrow. To face the past I left behind. I wonder what will happen then.

I wish I needn't go.

It's half past two in the morning.
I have school tomorrow.