Fathers.

And so my own father thinks I'm a lazy bum and thinks that "tired" does not exist in the teenage dictionary.

Well, perhaps if he endured 3 projects, he'd probably change his mind. Or not.

Work is terrible, but that does not mean I don't have a right to be tired. This is ridiculous!

But then again, I'd rather not argue with my father, so I just swiftly, or rather gracefully, make tiny stomps on my feet and rush into my room.

So there. End of sermon.

I guess that's a short update and something I just had to say. I can't rely on diaries, writing isn't so much of my forte anymore, especially long blog posts like these, that are meant to be typed out. I simply can't bear so much on my hand.

Oh dear, I'm beginning feel lazy.

Oh wait. I always have been.

Screw life, sometimes.