And the well runs dry...

The result of school on a Saturday is an eerily isolated, chilled, stark landscape. A barren reminder of what a playground is meant to be, through its desperation and solitude.

I'm willing to bet even Thoreau's years spent living at Walden pond, basking in self-sufficiency, privacy and a return to nature, weren't as isolated as this poor scene.

My [little] brother has just topped my relationship record. ::Hanging my head in shame::

There is a local man running about town stark naked, grabbing girls off the streets. Should I have cause to worry?

I was just handed a schedule dictating my class visits for the next three months. Someone has penciled my life into perfectly parallel little boxes on paper. My position for the next few months is dictated by one person's pencil. It's a pencilk with a tracking device. They're playing with my future. I don't like it. I don't even plan my weekends two days in advance, let alone three months. Scary thoughts are flooding me.

I need coffee.