i must look like i walked through hell and back

lml
because that's how i feel right about now. im supposed to be working on this damn essay for school, im maaaad tired and i cant htink for shit. so im writing in here so it sounds like im typing, haha, and cuz i hate this, and just to keep myself from faling alseep, which is what i want ot do right now, and so i can think about it a bit more, and to put this in, form Fahrenheit 451:

Listen. When I was a boy my grandfather died, and he was a sculpter. He was also a very kind man who had a lot of love to give our world, and he helped clean up the slum in town; and he made toys for us and he did a million things in his lifetime; he was always busy with his hands. And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for the things he did. I cried because he would never dothem again, he woyuld never carve another piece of wood or help us raise doves and pigeons in the backyard or play the violin the way he did. He was individual. He was an important man. I've never gotten over his death. Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homign pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

totally unrelated, but its awesome.
here i go again to try to write. as i read it i can tell the paper sucks ass badly, it barely is coherant, but i dont care anymore. so much for "let's see how good i can get this year, show off for college". maybe its "lets transfer". or maybe i should besaying "let's not procrastinate like this, and then we can get some sleep"
yay
\V/