Whooptee doo. I have a strange feeling that I have a damn lot of c5s. It's killing me.

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Every morning, the sun shines a yellow-golden hue as I wake from my eternal slumber. not so eternal now, is it. I ask myself, what do I get up every morning for?

" I'm not a perfect person...."

Every night, regret engulfs me like the darkness blankets the sky. As I curl up to sleep, I ask myself, why should I get up tomorrow, after I could have done so much more today?"

" There's so many things I wish I didn't do..."

Alright, I'm not really the writing type. Screw the hoobastank lyrics too.

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Dammit. Really need to relieve stress. I hope the wall can take the onslaught of my thick skull. ROAR!

*bonk*

nope, that didn't work.

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bleagh. I officially crown this the night of failed writing, or "whatevetsch" in german.