I am so much fucking fail at expository essays. Anything I try to spit out ends up sounding like a fucking debate script with structure that is nothing like an expo.  

My impressions of expository essays are- It's got no plot! No development! No emotions! HOW TO WRITE!!!???!

An a lighter note, I bought two bottles of lovely perfume. One is a floral scent without label, (the shop made its own scents) and was sold for a fucking $2 an ML. My bottle was $3.50, plus 14ML of scent, which cost me a fucking $31.50. YES. Its a bomb for 14ml of liquid. Although I was rather intrigued that the shop sold perfume like that. And the scent is pretty. Flowery like theres no tomorrow, I might say.

The other one is Ulric de Varens Kiss, which looks & smells lovely. Will upload photos soon.

A quick sift through my friend's page told me that everybody had a nice, meaningful day.
Well, besides the nosebleeds, but I've never nosebled before and it makes me curious.

I spent a full day staring at a fucking computer.

No, I didn't get any work done. At all.

I was reading.  

Sometimes, I amaze myself.

bitI've just read a story. The character's best friend's name is Tracy. AND she's a bimbo. I mean Tracy is a bimbo. Not the character. She lives in a mansion, hyperventilates over guys and paints her room wall pink. She over uses makeup too. AND! Her nickname is Trace.

Cue for me to laugh sarcastically.

I'm just realising that I resemble (quite a few) two dimensional fanfic/fictionpress characters in personality AND in name. And in colour. Although strictly speaking my skin isn't pink.

It's amusing isn't it? I didn't choose my English name.


***

I'm not the only one making a big fuss about Akkarin's death.
According to someone on Amazon, "It hurts to see his name."
&I'm not even there yet.
I've worked something out. I'll reread the book and ignore the last chapter.
Then he'll still be alive.

Oh, and on a lighter note, I got pretty good grades for bio, after studying for around 3 hours.
I hate it when this happens. 
Oh, damn, so if I had studied a bit longer I WOULD have gotten MUCH higher.
*guilt trip*

Oh, before I begin with my normal content, look at what I just found on somebody else's blog. It made me laugh.

"-Akkarin of the family delvon, house velan, ex-high lord of the magicians guild.
you made her a hostage, turned her into a black magician, make her kena exile together with you out of the
Allied Lands, tell her that you love her as much as she loves you, make her pregnant, then you just
DIE???????? what the hell is your problem?!
arrgghhh.... "

Taken from: www.saraheyeballs.blogspot.com
Forgive the odd language, you get my point. 

WTF YOU JUST DIE?!

* * *

...I made alot of mistakes while I was growing up. And I paid a dear price for most of them too.

Looking back, I believe I hurt a good number of people, pissed off even more people, and just acted plain immature to some. In fact I might be doing so right now. There are people who I think of, who I can remember, but I cannot contact anymore, even though I have the appropriate links still intact. That has got to do with my past, what I did. And what I did wrong. People I cherish, their company I crave, their voices I have long forgotten. Now, to me, they are merely distant identities drifting in my bag of memories. 

I look at the people around me now. Ten years later, will I still be talking to them? Or will I have done something so erratic to lose their friendship? Will they join people of my past, as shady identities I remember, yet can never contact again? I've turned them away with my own hands. Who else can I blame?

I've done stupid things. I'm still doing stupid things. I will continue to do stupid things. 

But why, in all actuality, WHY indeed do I do such stupid things?

When I recollect and look back at the path I've trodden upon, my footprints are laced with regret. My heart clenches as I think of all my mistakes, and how self-centered I can be. 

I resent my past. I loathe the memories that come back to haunt me.
Though, they rarely have any effect. I am used to accepting what that has happened, and can never be altered.
But that does not stop the memories from returning.

Haunted.
Yet unafraid.

All I ever regret.