Wish my mate would get online and talk to me. I am so bored. I have nothing to do. I don’t feel good at all. Hell, I feel like shit. I hate being sick. I hate not feeling right. I hate being bored. I hate not being able to breathe correctly. Hate that my throat hurts. Hate that I have had a constant headache for the past almost 3 weeks.
But most of all, I hate that I have no one to complain any of this to, because the person that deals with me isn’t online right now. So I wish she’d get on. And talk to me. So I can ask whats wrong, and try to help. And then I can complain for hours and hours that my life sucks because I hate being sick.
Look at this site, isn’t it neat? Wouldn’t you think that this dashboard’s complete?
Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl. The girl who blogs… everything? Look at this trove, treasures untold. How many wonders can one Tumblr hold? Looking around here you think. Sure, reblog everything. I’ve seen memes and hipsters aplenty. Reblogged graphics and text posts galore. You want messages? I’ve got twenty! But who cares, no big deal. I want more… I want to be where the hipsters are. I want to see, want to see them bloggin’. Putting some pics in their; What do you call it? Oh queue. Facebook and MySpace won’t get you far. Friends are required for liking, commenting. When they start creeping then you just… what’s that word again? Block. Up where they like, where they reblog. Where they have Caturday and Sundog. Signup is free. Wish I could be. Part of Tumblr. What would I give if I could live without these errors? What would I pay to spend the day scrolling my dash? Bet David Karp, he has a heart. Bet he won’t reprimend his followers. Bright young hipsters, don’t need misters. Forever alone. I’m ready to know what those hipsters know! Ask them my questions and get some answers! What is breathing? And what is… what’s the word? Air? When’s it my turn. Wouldn’t I love. Love to follow, like and reblog. Out of Facebook. Wish I could be. Part of Tumblr.