Time to smoke. Time to write. Time to clean. Time to dress up. It's T. time.
Yeah, that's right. T. and I are meeting up either at the bar or somewhere else. I have knots in my stomach and a heavy chest. I am nervous, excited, high, soon to be drunk I hope. I still like him, and am obviously hoping to hook up. Shit. Probably won't happen, but I did ask him last night if he was interested in being friends with benefits.
Speaking off, I officially skipped two classes this week. It is only the second week of the semester, kind of an early start to my rebellious ways. I will be better about attending though, I know I will. I can't afford to fail any classes this semester, therefore I must go.
I forgot that I started typing this out. I just returned from the bar.
I hate life.
I want to die.