Oh, to be Four Again

It's THE perfect age: you can blow your own nose, tie your own shoes, write your own name and STILL sit on your mother's lap. I mean, come on, how much better could life get? Some kids can even read at four. I really cannot think of much more bliss than that. No choices to make, no kindergarten or other grades, no life defining desisions, no weird things called hormones, no feeling of lost (you know exactly where you belong- on your mother's lap), no loneliness, no heartache, no confusion, no real temptations: just absolute contentment. AND you can still sit on your mother's lap.

I don't know what age that normally ends. I guess it depends on the kid. I know that it shouldn't be at the age of 7 or 8, though.

Maybe, I'm just very hug- starved right now. It's funny how stuff like that works. I was scared to get hugs, now people are scared to give me hugs. Maybe I'm ready to go home. Maybe the world is too confusing for me right now. Maybe my brain needs a break. Maybe I'm sick of insanity. Maybe I'm sick of assinine behaviour from assinine stalkers. Maybe I'm sick of myself and my inability to ... cope?? Maybe I'm sick of knowing that I can and yet, somehow I can't make myself think I can or won't. Maybe it's because I know I can get away with not; I have fairly decent GPA and barely touch my books- not that I really know what I do with my time- I sit there with my books but I don't really look at them, I get lost in my brain. Maybe I should stop speculating and just go to confession. Again.

My, my, my. I love how I start out with a great thought about how wonderful something is and then lose it to the negative.

Arg.

ONE MORE SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!