about the talking fish

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Writer. Wheelman. Occasional DIY mechanic. Walking collection of hang-ups. Hopeless romantic. Old-school. Analog soul in a digital world. I am all of these things and more.

Tuesday, August 27, 2002

Felt so drained after my two finals exams. Accounting 1B was three hours' worth of utter hell. It didn't help that I had my Politics and Governance finals just half an hour afterward, which would have been cool if I actually studied for it instead of focusing all my attention on stupid accounting.

I still feel the brain drain in my head while I'm casually surfing the Web and accessing some sites. It's that bad.
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Stupid girl says she's not angry with me anymore and that she's okay now.

Damn it, she has the nerve to say that...as if she actually has the right to get angry in the first place. Why on earth should you be fucking angry? You didn't feel betrayed. You didn't feel abandoned. You didn't feel like your trust had been broken. You didn't even feel anything but weird, seeing as I slapped your accounting practice set books onto your table.

Don't you dare tell me you're not angry with me anymore, because you never had the right to. And you had to say this just when I was considering making up with you.

You treat me like dirt. I should've known that a fucking long time ago.
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I want to be with my lady...now that my term's over, all I want to be is her lover...

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