michaelasaurus

It's midnight. It's summer. It's humid as fuck. My fan is on full blast, my window is wide open, but I still feel incredibly sticky from this heat. It's revolting really, and moths are coming in my window. Usually I have nothing against moths but they keep landing on my shoulder and it's irritating but I can't bring myself to kill them. I start Whitecliffe tomorrow. Monday. Wow. This is what I've been dreaming of for years and it's about to happen. My life is starting, it's all rather crazy.

It looks like there was a food orgy on my desk. There is cinnamon and honey fucking everywhere, and I don't know where it came from.

So, uh, hi there journal, Deviantart. The empty box had been bugging me for a while so I decided to climb out of my anti-social cage and write something. Michaela. 18. New Zealand. So you're supposed to write journal entries like a diary? A nice little page to throw your thoughts at? Well, okay. It is currently 25 minutes past noon. I woke up at 10:30am, after going to bed at 6:30am as a result of too much internet and food and exercise and whatnot. Whoops. So I have my curtains drawn and door shut so that my family won't disturb me. That's one good thing about sleep deprivation problems (yeah I have those, they're fantastic!), when my f