This could have most possibly been the most tiring week of my life, in all honesty. Every mourning I get up at ten of six and go to the gym. I am, by nature, a lazy person so I believe I can do a bit of complaining. I feel better about myself, I have to admit. I love being healthy.
Nothing happened this week. I got happy. I got depressed. I got in trouble. I was good. Three word sentences. I don't have much to say.
My birthday's on Monday. Have I told anyone? No, of course I have not! Birthdays are something that people are supposed to remember, not something I have to announce. If they don't remember, then they probably don't care enough. I don't care about it enough to say anything, anyhow. And if my friends at school don't remember, then I get something new to complain about. I'm already prepared to have a fit if anyone DARES to have a surprise party for me. I'd rather be difficult.
I'm not by nature a difficult person. No, not at all. Rather, I'm quite agreeable and humerous. I love to be...crazy? I do not get angry easily unless a bad memory is brought up, but more that brings on depression. Most believe I'm quite nice, I think. So my friends went to go see Alice in Wonderland. Of course I wasn't invited. Oh well. I'm worried sick about something right now.