A Case of Champagne (or Just a Bottle)

I've been having a pretty bad week. Contributing to this is the fact that I'm having problems with all my friends, I'm making bad grades for the first time in my entire life, I'm mad at myself for my lack of creative juices, and--most important of all--I'm pmsing. Some people get cramps before their period. I PMS like there's no tomorrow. My philosophy during these difficult times? Scream at as many people as possible.

Actually, I lie. My PMS officially ended this morning, sooo I've been feeling a lot more sane. Thank God. Anyways, getting back on topic, I've just been feeling depressed lately. Not as depressed as I once was, mind you, but unhappy all the same. Being unhappy makes me want to drink. Yesterday, I emptied out a bottle of champagne. It gave me the blissful high I needed, and the sleep that I craved.

But, of course, I have to wake up at three in the morning. So, basically, I slept like a log for...hmm...five hours? Bloody brilliant. And now I've turned British.

Here's what I really want to do. I want to scream. I can't do this in real life, but I'll do it here.



FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God, it felt good to get it out of my system.

Disclaimer: If this somehow gets out, I deny everything. I'm just a lunatic, after all.