picture in my mind

Signs, signs, signs. How do you interpret them? I'm freaking out. I'm scared.

Be brave, be brave.

Goodness. You must be wondering what I'm blogging about.

Sometimes, don't you wish you could have someone take you by the hand and show you the right way? So you don't have to handle the confusion.

I'm having a freaking headache.

And oh god, the stupid internet connection. Keeps going.

You know how you admire the amazing people in stories? You know, like William Wallace, or Frodo, or Harry, or Peter Parker. How brave they are, how strong. And you wish, you know, you could be a little bit like that. And maybe you wish you could be offered the opportunity to test yourself, to see if you could be like that. But then when real things happen, it's different, isn't it? I think it's harder than you can imagine. Less fantastical, more real, more painful, infinitely scarier.

I think. I am a closet drama queen. Yes, I am. What else can account for this... crappiness.

Right now, I want Season 2 of Prison Break so much, I think I'd do almost anything for it. Anything! Short of crime, at least. Oh, piracy excluded.

Oh whoops. @_@. Will I get arrested for saying that?

Whatever. I WANT SEASON 2!!!

How can anyone have such pretty eyes? It shouldn't be allowed. Wentworth Miller, I mean. Besides, guys should not have the prettier eyes. You know what? TV is detrimental. It sets your standards of beauty so high, you can't possibly find anyone real to match.

Okay, bidding for modules are starting soon. I mean, tomorrow. I shall stop. Toodles.