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diaryland
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7:55 a.m.
as with every christmas I got sick. I get sick every year. It's almost kind of funny really. I mean since sixth grade this has happened. I have a very stressful week (or two weeks) come home and die. but just a little. I'm usually fine by new years. Actually I'm feeling better I'm just weak. Very weak. This keyboard is putting up a fight. I think I'm going to have to rest............... yeah. I need to go rest now.
I hate being sick. I feel so completely pathetic.
She was born in November 1963 The day Aldous Huxley died And her mama believed That every man could be free So her mama got high, high, high And her daddy marched on Birmingham Singing mighty protest songs And he pictured all the places That he knew that she belonged But he failed and taught her young The only thing she's need to carry on He taught her how to Run baby run baby run baby run Baby run Past the arms of the familiar And their talk of better days To the comfort of the strangers Slipping out before they say so long Baby loves to run She counts out all her money In the taxi on the way to meet her plane Stares hopeful out the window At the workers fighting Through the pouring rain She's searching through the stations For an unfamiliar song And she's pictures all the places Where she knows she still belongs And she smiles the secret smile Because she knows exactly how To carry on So run baby run baby run baby run Baby run From the old familiar faces and Their old familiar ways To the comfort of the strangers Slipping out before they say So long Baby loves to run
Last Five Entries:
insert semi clever joke about not being able to spell something without R U here - 08.08.2005
- - 08.06.2005
well fuck. - 08.06.2005
it's all just a little bit of history repeating... - 08.03.2005
a quick update - 08.03.2005