Whine for me.

I gave up writing ’cause I couldn’t take the criticism; thats how weak minded I is. Regardless, I write tid bits of how I feel, rather than… rather than what? No idea, no idea.

Without being able to continue on this lost interest, I progress further into not trying and giving in easily or up if that works for you. It works for me just fine. Just fine, but I can’t settle for that as of late; why? ‘Cause I have a fcukin’ year left until I get knocked to the ‘real’ world they say. Whatever the hell that means.

Meh, i’ll manage somehow like I usually do. But I guess if I were a fuck-up I’d gain more out of this experience, but sadly I’m not. I’m just some asian kid obsessed with the past. I can’t work around my peter pan complex, no sir no.

Tired. Thats how I feel. I do nothing, I grow nothing, I seek nothing, and sometimes I feel nothing. Poor, poor shell. Thou is empty? Yes, like your gas gauge on E.

Excuse me. You’s are inappropriate to include in sentences; it’s informal- come see me.

Decodes to- You suck ass, what the fuck is wrong with you and why the fuck are you in this class? You can’t write worth shit; are you sure you’re not retarded?

No ma’am no. No sir no. I am not, sorry to disappoint, but I can’t do this anymore.

I give up… just like that.