Nothing's fine

I still feel this weird feeling. I can't figure it out. Maybe it comes every month along with that other thing. That other, wonderful thing. Sure, why not. I hate that shit. I want to fall so I wouldn't be expected to stand anymore. But then I cannot stand when they stare at me on the ground. And I cannot stand my parents screaming at me. I'm just bruised.

I don't know....I don't know what to blog anymore. In the beginning, I guess it was sort of interesting. Now its just...my days. And that's boring. It doesn't even interest anyone.

Things that could be entertaining:
--I'm listening to Britney Spears "Boys" right now.
--I sneezed seven times consecutively while walking to my front door.
--I have a hankering for playing some frisbee right now.
--Uh...can't find those frisbees though.
--I refuse to wear shorts until I get my lower body in shape.
--I refuse to get any part of my body in shape.
--Well, not really refuse, but forget.
--That was a dumb poem. I'll never be a Kinnell. OR a Plath. Or an Austen. Vonnegut. Rand. Because my writing lacks grace and eloquence. Its just a stumbling, bumbling fragment. Unfinished. The whole story untold. And in my vain effort to be poetic right now, its all true.

Nah, that last one was not entertaining. That was just me down. Down down down. I think I will go listen to some TRUSTcompany right now and remember happier times.