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Expect more.

I used to keep busy. I would fire up whatever electronic device had my fancy and just be. I 'd sit for hours, completely detached and unaware. At some point in the night, I'd realize the time and shuffle off to sleep. My day was completely filled. Games or books and sleep. Sometimes I'd read, or take in food.

I can't do it anymore. I was unhappy, and now I try to escape to it once more, and it's not working. I mean, it sort of works, I still get engrossed, I still get lost until I fall asleep in complete shock after seeing the time. But, I can feel everything. In the back of my head, I feel the sadness, despair, worry crawl at me, demand whatever is left of my sanity. I don't have an escape, it seems.

Just when I need it most.

Damn it. Everything is caving in, the whole facade. I'm a pretentious asshole, and I know the extent of my pride. I deplore my current situation, usually very vocally, and yet I seem to want to stay in it. Why do give myself so much trouble? I've spent countless hours psychoanalyzing myself (without the colorful terms) and the only thing I can think of is, "Why don't you fix it?". Well, it's easy to say it, you deplorable little inner voice. But, dammit it's right, it is easy. Everyone has done it.

I hate being compared, even in the slightest, to anybody or anything. I know, it's very teenage of me. I make fun of it all the time, but it's true. And yet here I am, failing. Becoming another number, so they say. I can argue, probably very eloquently, that my failure is different, that I'm a misunderstood intellectual (I already commented on my pretentiousness, wanna argue about it?), or that i'm making some sort of statement about the ills of the educational system, but that'd feel like another cop out. No, it would be me just weaseling out of it. So I won't, I'll own up to it.

I feel like this has already been done and it's irritating me so I will not complete the previous thought.

Instead I will say that i'm very sad. And hurt, mainly by myself, and mainly in ways that are completely reparable. And yet, the scotch TAPE ( not liquor) remains untapped and the hole is here, completely agape.

I started writing with the intent of posting on some sort of internet medium. Alerting my friends, seeing their reactions. Maybe I'll show it to a teacher or two (in which case, please know that this is unedited, excuse the numerable mistakes - ed.). In either case, I don't really know what I wanted to accomplish. I haven't "kept my audience in mind" or any of the other literary bullshit my schooling has taught me. But I have kept swearing to a minimum, not intentionally, but naturally. This is how I talk, or rather think.

My mind is a curious thing. You laugh, but I would have to compare it to one of those mindstorming pages third graders do in order to try and write something halfway decent. I must admit, I never made one, probably because I was born with one already in my mind. Except mine is less logical and more cluttered, like my desk or notebook. Regardless, I'll think of something and twelve more bubble like thoughts will spring up, representing the various sides of the idea. I have the good, the bad. Some of it I consider funny (and give myself a well earned mental chuckle), other stuff completely deranged. Then again, the line between that is usually blurred, but more on that later. I can develop crisp mental images, and morph the characters in my head into whatever I want. I can place them in settings, like some sort of doll. It's all like a sitcom, with really bad writers and and a really dark but funny plot. Like the lead character dies or something. That's always funny, it shocks the audience. I feel sorry for my audience, They're always getting screwed over.

"keep the audience in mind"

Whatever. So anyway, What I mean to say is that I'm sad. And because of that, you can expect more writing from me.

- Francisco Duran

Obligatory FIrst Day Post

Today was the first day of school. I'm a senior now, and I couldn't be happier. My classes were wonderful, I knew most of my teachers.

that's all I could think of for now.


Didn't miss practice

But I forgot to go home early so I missed out on a trip to the mall.



And I get to thinking.

things, you know?

like how depressing my job is.

I delete people, it's what I do. They leave and I remove the every last trace from the tables.

It's as if they weren't there.

I mean, there are records and things (receipts and what have you), but nothing human.

terrifyingly depressing.


Took my final

Missed one question. I spent an hour and a half trying to figure it out, but no dice.

"find all solutions for sin2θ+2cosθ=-2 when 0<θ<360"

if someone could figure that out for me, it'd be greatly appreciated.

Anywho, I haven't been going to practice, mainly because I'm a dumbass. But, let's not forget my incredible laziness and reluctance to wake up so goshdarn early.

I do like running, just not waking up.

I'm a little stressed, I don't know if i'll be able to get into Calculus next year. If I can't, imma forgo a math class in high school, and take pre-calculus then calculus 1 at citrus college. Can't wait!!

46 hookers

minus clothes, plus scarves

equals one bitchin' civil war reenactment.

It's 1:53AM

Have you done your homework?

I haven't...


Just had an earthquake.

Thought it was a big truck.



My teacher returned the quiz we had on Thursday. I got a 43%. My only hope is to turn in my homework for this week and score a 90% or higher on my final. I'll pass, I know.

Mrs. Ridderer, my math teacher, is cute. She's this really big math and physics geek and she cracks jokes from those fields regularly. It's adorable.

I was so terribly sleepy today, I peppered naps throughout.

I worked on my story in class to keep from falling asleep. I've rewritten the beginning too many times to count. I'll get it yet.

perhaps I'll let you all read one of my roughs.

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