One of the worst parts about being a teenager, is knowing alot about your friends.
Even though I know all of these things, it doesnt mean I actually wanted to know them. If I traded everything I had for one other thing. Would that atleast get me some merit points towards being a "good person"
Another terrible, blog inspired tragedy about being a teenager, is that you and everyone around you is comparing their lives to what they see in movies, television shows and even video games.
Yes. Video games.
And please, if im wrong, next time you see me smack me in the chin with a large fish.
Even in my above paragraph I refer to "merit points towards being a "good person" " like my life is a giant game of The Sims. Whenever im talking to a broken-hearted or worried person, boy or girl most of the time I get "I wish life was more like the movies"
I think EVERYONE wishes that.
Come on!
Who hasnt fantasised about marrying a woman only to find out that she is an assassin all the while keeping your assassin identity a secret, then, after a fight to the near death in your incredibly expensive house and right after making hot passionate love (Mr & Mrs Smith) you get into your family van that transforms into a gigantic space robot (Transformers) that is then sued by two seperate parties for stealing an idea for the multi-billion dollar website facebook.com (The Social Network)
You havent had that fantasy?
hmmm must just be me.
The clock on my wall has been stuck at 3 for days.
Atleast I hope it has. Otherwise ive been stuck on the same loop of time for 3 or four days.
Wouldnt that be awkward?
Im digging the fact that people are wall posting & Inboxing & Commenting me telling me that they read my blog and they really like it.
If you really like it.
Do me a favour?
Make a blogger account and follow the shiz outta me :)
I'd really appreciate it.
Oh and wall post me if you've read my blog, give me your opinion.
Double Oh, Some of you will have noticed that I only said Transformers and didnt mention the sequel.
I did that for a reason. . . .
It sucked.
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