Me in class.
- Me: okay, gotta focus. Big test coming up.
- Me: ooooh, when did that poster get there?
- Me: ugh, split ends.
- Me: why is the back of your head so attractive?!
- Me: HOW DID YOU GET THAT ANSWER?
- Me: just act like you understand.
- Me: don't pick me, don't pick me...
- Me: so here's my number, so call me maybe.
- Me: DAMN THAT SONG IT'S SO FUCKING CATCHY.
- Me: it's only been fifteen minutes?
- Me: I hate you all.
- Me: someone shoot me.
This things a goddamn death march.
I fucking hate this parade. I barely slept last night. My eyes are messed up. What makes you think I want to march a 45min-hour long parade in a smoldering hot uniform and carrying cymbals? And it’s mostly uphill. Did I mention the drumline plays 80% of the time too? Cause our band director wants to give the band a break. But who cares about the kids carrying the heaviest equipment right? Just. Fuck.
