Paradise Lost

I never knew what the term 'living dead' quite meant until now. I can't sleep, my body aches, I can't get my homework done, and I'm hungry to the point where I eat whatever; it doesn't even matter anymore. I had a 1000 word biology paper due today (very important) and I couldn't do it last night and so I couldn't turn it in today. And I've got that annoying voice in my head saying I should've made up my mind sooner on a topic. That way it would've been done by last night. It's not like I was putting it off; I couldn't decide on a topic and when it comes to these papers I'm overstressed right away because I feel like they have to be absolutely perfect. In every way shape and form Call it the writer in me. If I was this motivated in all areas of aspect, I'd be flawless myself. I guess no ones perfect. Even if my friends say they didn't think I'd want to hang out because "I'm too cool", and the sad part is they don't mean it in a mean way. They're serious. The most serious of them all is John. Whom I thought was too cool to want to hang out with me. Suddenly I'm cooler because I'm comfortable with myself and have someone who loves me unconditionally who I love also. Now that I think about it, yeah I am cooler than them.

I'm kidding. (maybe...but serioulsy...maybe)

To make my life that much better, my step dad defyed my mother (his wife) again and went ahead and got a gun. Not a little gun, a nice man killing machine. I remember laying in bed and hearing him down in the living room on the phone talking about gun prices and him saying if he bought if online it was cheaper. What was the cheaper price? $200. Not cheap when your mom has to work 2 jobs and go to school just to keep a roof over our heads. Senior was complaining because our income tax money always goes towards the house. Well, yeah you dumb ass, we live in it and you sit on your ass in it. You want money to blow off? Get a fucking job and sell the shit in the back yard. Trust me, they don't make the back yard look pretty.

I know he's getting ready to tell her because he's doing exactly what he did when he got the puppy. He's actually going stuff around the house. What bothers me is he asks for my opinion then when I give it to him he talks about all the flaws involved in it. Even though I know what mom wants more than he does. Clearly.

Work is starting out rough. It's what I wanted alright, a job where I don't have to talk to anyone and I get to just work on my own and at my own pace. It's exactly that. I get books (and right now I'm still getting "trained") and take the cart upstairs and stock the shelves (flagging the books I place on the shelf so that they can come up behind me and make sure I'm doing it right. I have to pass with 95% or more three times in a row, or else start all over. It takes me about an hour and a half with about 70 books or so. So far I've gotten 98%, 95%, and a 96%. My body aches come from bending down and moving around trying to put books away but I know it'll eventually get easier for me. I remember nearly dieing my first week of school because I was starving and my body killed. But now I don't feel anything. Haha, I'm immune to the pain. Pain is weakness leaving the body. I've gotta go home and do laundry and my government homework. Doesn't seem I'll have much time tomorrow to do it.

Had a bag of chips for lunch and they kicked ass. And I approve of this message.