The Future is a Whirling Vortex of Terror

That’s pretty much it.

I have a year and a half until I have to start actually adulting.

This is a scary thing.

I am not ready to adult. I do not think a year and a half is sufficient time for me to be able to adult. I have big goals that are hard.

I’m tired of things being hard.

I’m told things are hard and then you die. But that seems like a lame arrangement.

This is cheery, innit? My sister told me to entertain the masses.


I do hope my currently glass-is-empty mood is entertaining.

I’d quote the 300 but that seems too cliché. And also I kind of already have.

Can you tell I’ve been feeling miserably unwell the last few days? Because I don’t think it’s put a damper on my thoughts at all.


Oh, I may or may not post an essay I wrote on here soon. It’s about women in wars. But only 20th and 21st century wars. Because there are a lot of wars, and I’m not interested in penning a dissertation. Interest?

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