...how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can’t be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life.
Ah, how is it i feel today? not well, in the sense that others would define well. I am well, after all, in my own way. I am, of course, alive and healthy. I am however doing far too much thinking. I can't stop thinking! And of what? Nothing at all, but everything. Everything is beautiful. It is, as much as i hate saying it, i love everything today. The corridors, in which i today witnessed a student toss a wrapper out of her coat pocket. The Library, with all the books and the hushed anticipation of the bell ringing in the end of the hour, the end of this miserable and far too quiet time in this prison. The teachers, who sometimes seem to genuinely care. The student, who are nothing, yet everything, like me.
I have this scrape, if you'll call it as such, on my left hand just where my index finger meets my palm. I think it's from when i slipped on the ice and fell last tuesday with Eliott in front of Texas Roadhouse. I can't be sure, of course, for it didn't even notice it until yesterday afternoon, when it began to sting in pain. It interests me, for some strange reason, though. The texture of it, the location of it... it's unlike anything i've had; it's like when there's a bruise on my finger. It's odd, and a sweet reminder that we''re human. At least for me it is.
Perhaps i'm just insane. Or, perhaps everyone has these thoughts.
I doubt it.
I don't want it to be Thursday. I want it to be Saturday afternoon, so that i can be excited with anticipation for my brother's arrival. Alas, i must sit through another day of shit. I don't see the point of most of my classes. Why am i stuck in intro to law? Why? I've no use for it. sure, it's interesting enough and easy and gives me a bit of knowledge of the legalities of this horrifyingly beautiful country, but i shall move, move away to England, to Scotland, to anywhere but here, where the cold seeps into my bones.
I want my bones to be comfortable, to be warm. To be in california, to be close to Dustin's bones.
"Come with me.
We took a back road.
We're gonna look at the stars.
We took a backroad in my car.
Down to the ocean,it’s only water and sand
And in the ocean we'll hold hands.
But I don't really like you,
apologetically dressed in the best,
but on a heartbeat glide.
Without an answer,
the thunder speaks for the sky,
and on the cold, wet dirt I cry.
And on the cold, wet dirt I cry.
Don’t you wanna come with me?
Don’t you wanna feel my bones
on your bones?It's only natural.
A cinematic vision ensued
like the holiest dream.
It's someone's calling?
An angel whispers my name,
but the message relayed is the same:
“Wait till tomorrow,you'll be fine."
But it's gone to the dogs in my mind.
I always hear them when the dead of night
comes calling to save me from this fight.
But they can never wrong this right.
Don't you wanna come with me?
Don't you wanna feel my boneson your bones?
It's only natural.
Don’t you wanna swim with me?
Don’t you wanna feel my skinon your skin?
It's only natural.
(Never had a lover)I never had a lover
(Never had soul)I never had soul
(Never had a good time)And I never had a good time
(Never got cold)I never got gold.
Don't you wanna come with me? Don't you wanna feel my bones
on your bones?
It's only natural.
Don't you wanna swim with me? Don't you wanna feel my skin
on your skin?
It's only natural.
Don't you wanna come with me? Don't you wanna feel my bones
on your bones?
It’s only natural.
Come and take a swim with me. Don't you wanna feel my skin
on your skin?
It’s only natural"
Indeed, Killers. It's only natural.
I think that in next hour there's some sort of lady coming in to rescue us from our boredom by raving on and on to us about being a lawyer. I daon't know if i'm up for that. It hink that perhaps i'll sleep though it. that is what i feel up to, sleeping. I hope that we're not actually doing anything in BritLit, as i don't want to. Christ i have so much latework for that class.
I just won't talk to anyone but Dustin tonight. Because i need to make him cookies, and i'd planned on backing in general, as well as catching up on some shit.
How, though?
I shall be up all night.
Oh, i need to stop California dreamin' sometime. It's just going to kill me in the end.
