The little dog in the clothes shop down the road is not dead! He had merely...disappeared for a few months. Phew :) so that made my day - seeing him. Ah yes...sad I know, but still...it's the little things in life, or so they say.

It felt strangely like summer today at school...minus the summer uniforms, which no one has taken to just yet. It felt good, and I realised how much I've been missing the warmer weather - despite how much I seem to complain about it when it is actually here.

It's poets day! Well...maybe everyone *else* knows what that means, but I had not a clue when my friend told me today - (P*ss Off Everyone Tomorrows Saturday). I thought that was quite clever...didn't quite have the same effect though, because I'm not looking as forward to it as she is.

This week has flown...which usually means that it was a good week. I can't, looking back, see anything special. But nothing that made it bad either.
One week closer to the end. One further away from the beginning. Time. What a strange and wonderful thing.

Oo...I worked out Wednesday night, in all my boredom, how long I have been on this earth. That's pretty sad. What's even sadder? that I wrote a poem about it...heh.

Six thousand five hundred and thirty two days.
That's how long I've been here.
Six thousand five hundred and thirty two days,
Are an awful lot of days.
One hundred and fifty six thousand, seven hundred and sixty eight hours,
Nine million four hundred and six thousand and eighty minutes,
Is a long time to have been here.
Is it too long to say,
I've had enough of being here?
Five hundred and sixty four million, three hundred and sixty four thousand and eight hundred seconds,
And counting...
Each taking me one hundred milliseconds closer to the end,
And one thousand microseconds further away from the beginning.
It's all happening so quickly,
But taking so long.
Why do six thousand five hundred and thirty two days,
Sound such a long time,
But feel so lengthy...?
And why,
If I live to be eighty five,
Do I still have twenty four thousand fourt hundred and thirty nine days,
To be alive?
How long is long enough...?
Is it the days till my Birthday
That everyone forgets,
Even myself?
Maybe long enough,
Isn't the amount of days,
Or hours...minutes...or even seconds...
Maybe it's the number of smiles,
Laughs,
And happy memories.
I hope it's not.
Because if it is,
I have longer left here than I thought I did.
In fact, I may never leave,
If we get old by smiles...

I'm sick.
So now I can disprove the theory that things can't go from bad to worse.
I hate Sundays more than I hate Mondays. I even hate the way it sounds...like the whisper of a murderer.
And the picture - for those of you who care - is of 'The Sundays' the band. Their name alone has made sure they fail...well I think so anyway.

I hope you know it's time for me to fade,
So don't be sad when tomorrow I've gone away,
You know I'd love to stay...
But it's just too hard for me to try,
I'm so scared that life will pass me by.
Hoping that you,
Will see me soon,
But if you don't,
Then please remember I'll never stop loving you.


On a lighter note I have an absolutely pathetic joke that I will jot down before I forget.
"A highway (freeway, bypass etc) went into a bar (just nod and smile at this point in time) and asked the bartender for a beer. The bartender got him his beer, and as he was sipping it, a piece of tarmac (spelling?) came through the door. The highway leapt up from its seat, and jumped behind the bar. The bartender was surprised, and looked down at the highway, and asked, 'what are you scared of? you have four lanes, thousands of cars travelling on you, and that is just a small piece of tarmac...?' 'Oh, haven't you heard', whispered the highway, 'he's a cyclepath'"

Ah...I think I stuffed it up somewhere. Mum tells it better...oh well I'm glad I don't have the ambition of being a comedian.

I've taken to watching the stars latey. Simply because they seem so innocent and far away...and so hopeful. Maybe that's just the way society has made me see them...but nonetheless I've never met anyone that truly believes a star is ugly.
Then again I've never known anyone who has actually seen what a star looks like close up. Maybe their faults show when you get too close...

I am so greatful this week is over that I would give up every star just to make sure I don't ever have to see another week like it.
Not looking forward to tomorrow...possibly because there is nothing to look forward to.
Maybe I'll induldge myself in something sensationally bad for me...like eating icecream in the bath.

Or maybe I'll just sleep.