You've never been so sick of getting educated and nature's faking spring again.
Walking down the corridor after being filled with useless knowledge you see; scarves forgotten on sunny days, notepads soaked by melting snow and Mr. Athletic wearing a t-shirt (pray that he gets stuck in bed with influenza). Bake oatmeal'n raisin cookies while you still can blame winter depression for your sweet tooth. Wear sunscreen; you don’t need people’s freckle jokes already.
You aren't among the chosen this year either, but looking at Lucy cheers you up:
At least your heart wasn't the only one that wasn’t warmed.
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Comments
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'Needed time to clear my mind and breathe the free air, find some peace there. Used to keep my heart in jail but the choice was love or fear of pain and I...
chose...
love...'
Anathema - 'Everything'
I despise February as well. Who's Lucy?
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(and if she did I think the main character of this would hide in bed eating ice-cream for a really long time)
Really. I had convinced myself it was the other way round
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We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.
- W. Somerset Maugham
(To scarf: to ingest too quickly; to devour. I watch with horrific fascination as he scarfs down that pizza.
Remember: knife, knives; half, halves; scarf, scarves: a noun that ends in an 'f' sound almost always pluralizes with a 'v'.)
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