It was pretty funny how I was able to just bullshit some stuff during poetry class today when the instructor called on me. I think she likes me and that's both a blessing and a curse, I believe. Ehh. Whatever! I'd like to think that most people like me! I feel that I'm a pretty amiable person... or at least I come across as so, even if I know that I would personally hate myself if I knew me. That is, however, besides the point. I thrive on love and attention and must have it! Otherwise I get pretty depressed. I don't really know what to say today. To tell the truth, I don't even want to fucking write at all. I'm just doing this out of habit.
What had I been writing in my notebook in class before I was so rudely interrupted by having to participate in class? I think I was coming up with titles like she had asked us to do in our journals, but we had just started class... I know I had at least one other thing on my mind. Oh, it was about using lyrics from songs as poetry inspiration-- that's what I used to do all the time (it's pretty heavily Lifehouse-influenced now that I look back on it) but when other people read my work from then they can't tell a thing. I guess it's true, whoever that guy Hugo was quoting in Triggering Town-- was it T.S. Elliot? "Bad poets borrow. Good poets steal."
I can do stealing!
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