Do you ever scream for help, have it offered to you, deny needing it, refuse it, and then cry because you REALLY need help? It really only makes you angry, sad, frustrated, depressed and leaves everyone else with the same feelings and wanting to stay a long way away from you for a very long time. Speaking of long, check out my awesome run-on sentences. I really don't see a problem with them, but my english teacher does, and I get little "r.o." marks scattered all over the papers of mine that I thought were really quite good. Thursday, though, I will be able to crawl, kicking and screaming, to Metro. I really hate that I can not enjoy a plane flight. The thought of flying actually is appealing to me, but I have this annoying sickness that gets in the way of me having any fun. I wonder if they give complementary beer to sexy-ass girls with a sweet smile and a fifty. Depends on the guy I guess. By the way, if you are an Armenian waiter at Andiamo in Rochester; you have a voice like warm dark chocolate, which I can't get enough of. Can I pay you to talk to me? I'll tape it so I can listen to it in my sleep and in math class and when angry library patrons are yelling at me and I guarantee I'll be a happier person. Just name your price. I can't give any sort of commitment, though. I'm allergic to that. But I have lost all sense of self worth and self esteem. I have no regrets about going to school with no makeup in the same hoodie and jeans for weeks. Forget the smile too, that left when it heard my heart was taking residency elsewhere. Neither has written in a while. I think I've lost their address, and I don't know if they will ever come back to me. I'm not sure if I want my heart back, I think I should wait until I'm wise enough not to wear it on my sleeve or give it away to the first bidder. Does one ever learn this? I would like my smile, for I was just learning how to wear it. It was a little big for me to be comfortable with, but it spread happiness, and I think other people liked that, especially the guys. I don't think I know what a hot guy looks like anymore. They all disgust me and repel me with the scrolling "liar...promise breaker...user...Counterfeit..." on their foreheads. I seemed to have lost the want to flirt with such creatures. Maybe some of those Scottish blokes will woo me. I think I'll stay away from the Brits, but I could go for a Scot. Must have sexy voice, since most interaction will be via telephone. Or maybe I'll just erase that thought... I'd better start on next week's homework, I don't want to be working on it during spring break, that's why it's called BREAK. But wait, there's another meaning to that five-letterer. Time to consult Webster's. Thanks for enduring, you may leave my world now, I think the voices are calling me, they want to know how long I will make them listen to my crying tonight before I let them sleep.