Saturday, November 26

How To Make Your Hair Grow Faster, How To Find Love And The Other Ridiculous Thing We Google

Sometimes, when I fully intend to do homework, I get so sidetracked I don't even remember why I was on my computer to begin with. If I can avoid Youtube, I am usually safe. But sometimes, Google and and my overwhelming curiosity to know random things unite as an unbeatable force, promoting my procrastination

A Typical Night With Me And My Search Engine

Summary of post colonial text I don't understand
How much caffeine is too much caffeine
Caffeine overdose symptoms
Foods that keep you awake
How to make French Toast
Does French Toast come from France
The Eiffel Tower: images
How to forget about a boy



I never think about you, usually. But tonight, there you were. the thought of you was laced with regret, mostly. How much time I wasted, thinking about you, wanting you. It's been over for me for a while. but even the amount of time that has past isn't enough to heal me. Isn't enough to make me feel want-able. You took that from me. And I forgive you because you don't realize what you did.

I saw the new twilight movie tonight ... for the second time. The worst and best part about Breaking Dawn is how well they portrayed Jacobs emotions. His hurt. His loss. The unbearable way he wants Bella and how she most certainly does not want him back, but yet how she toys at his heart. Making him feel a lie. I have felt that lie. I clung to that lie for years. and I'm scared of life now that I have let go.

I thought about just crying it out, but then figured if I could debate doing it, it wasn't going to be worth it, because the best cry's come about suddenly and unexpected and cause you to hit your bed weeping in sobs so deep you feel as though the sheets are echoing your pain and swallowing you whole, or at least you hope they would. Those kind of cry's are reserved though, for true pain. not the bitter nostalgia you feel over the memories that the new twilight movie brought up. So I shrugged it off instead.

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