And oh, she likes to lead, in every way she led me on...

I think I've done something wrong. But I'm not entirely sure what.
I think I'll put this down to my inherited paranoia and the slight habit I have of overthinking.
There's nothing I can really do about it anyway, even if I HAVE.

You know something I HAVE done wrong? NEGLECTED THIS HERE BLOG. This is disgusting. Where the HELL have I been?!?!

A load of rubbish has happened, but who cares, one week left and I'm about as motivated as a left-over carrot on Boxing Day.

Leftover? Left over? Left-over? I've never had to write that before.

What ever happened to the school magazine? I'm supposed to be co-editing it, I'd like to know.

You'll have to excuse me, my mind's a bit of a blehh-ful mush (once more).

It gets to this time and all is quiet and I'm like 'hmm...' and my mind wanders :)
Now, it has the potential to fuel PERFECT creativity, or it can just be a flippin' pain.
Tonight I'm going with flippin' pain.

Another flippin' pain? My flippin' knee. Water on it or something? Never seen so many pills in my life. Pink smarties.

Ohhh, the sarcasm (and pure nonsense) is just a-flowing now.

I don't even THINK I'm in a bad mood either, just a tad confused, tired and fed up? Every single lesson at dear school is either a muckaround or a past paper, just bring on the exams and let them be OVERRRRR, I want to sleep and do lazy stuff.

*insert rant about Lutterworth and them slapping me in the face metaphorically by stopping me from doing EPQ and putting me on waiting lists for something that isn't my fault*
*insert light-hearted comment about touring around Hinckley with the fiancee and son today*
*insert another comment about exam leave*
*insert irritated comment about my face*
*insert general mooooaaaaaan*

"When I grow up, I want to be a penguin. Or a flute."

Or, in the words of my beloved shirt in the eyes of Burty, "When I grow, I want to be a rock star."

"Get out of my house."