"She's in love, and the world gets blurry
She makes mistakes, and she's in no hurry to grow up
'Cause grownups, they don't understand her
Well it's a big, big world out there, but she's not scared...
She finds hope in the strangest places
She reads her books, and she knows the faces
Of everyone that ever said she's alone
She knows every word to the saddest songs
And she sings along, though her friends all tell her
That she can't sing...
She's eighteen, much too young
To know what a kiss like that would mean
But her lips, they were no stranger to the touch
And she likes it way too much."
--Mayday Parade, So Far Away

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Nocturnal, Tired, Tired of Being Nocturnal...

I don't sleep at night. Well, that's not entirely true. I do sleep, just for only a little bit of time.

I'm up late every single night, doing loads of random stuff that I could probably accomplish some other time. Like last night, I cleaned my bedroom. Tell me that's not weird. I'm also the most motivated to write at night, so that's when the majority of my books have been written.

I must say, though, it puts a slight damper on my school day when I'm so tired I can barely stand up.

So I'm going to bed. Right now. Two hours before I would even consider sleep on a normal night.

Let's see how this one goes...

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