If life ain't just a joke then why are we laughing?

30/9

School.

Only one more day til the weekend.

And then work.

And rugby.

And the possibility of a party. =)

xXx

Champagne for a thousand miles

29/9

School.

Went bike hunting after.

I've put a deposit on a stunningly beautiful '08 TGB 204 125cc =)

It's black and shiny =)

I've been waiting on my own too long

28/9

School.

Eurgh.

"And my mind is the
subject of these bewildered
fragments of my soul."

I know if destiny's kind

Schoooool.

Je n'aime pas de ca.

Et ma frois est tres nul.

Eurgh.

The boy... always.... looks.... sad.... when I see him =(

xXx

Gonna start a revolution from my bed

26/9

Illlllllllll.

=(

=S

=(

=S

Life On Mars.

And homework.

And herbals.

And whiskey to help me sleep.

Coughing dreams.

xXx

Look into your eyes, imagine life without you

25/9

Workkkkk.

Nice break from schooooool.

That..... stupid, stupid boy...

Disjoined, bewildered thoughts and vodka and cokes.

And no.... sleep.....

And the cigarette packet is empty and bare.

And empty.

And.... empty.

Empty.

Ciao
xXx

You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy

School.

J'aime la poem: The Wild Swans at Coole, by WB Yeats.

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come apon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon these brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold,
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes, when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?