Bombarded

Wow.
People told me after my exams were over, I'd be able to sleep, I wouldn't feel sick. People don't know anything. Ugh.
'Tis a little strange; the last twelve years of my life have been devoted to school, and 'acquiring an education,' then suddenly, it's bang bang bang big tests, and it's over. Kind of ridiculous to spend that long learning for a collective...14hours and 45minutes. Sucks if those are the few hours in your life where you let the pressure get to ya eh...Oh well. Results in under two weeks. Frightening. I can't wait for the awkward backtracking from all those people that say 'oh, you'll do great, no problem..' They infuriate me.
I've been working a bit more since school's over, which i guess is good for the money, but it seems as monotonous, or possibly even more so, as everything else in my life.
But, on the bright side, i have a kitten, who makes the world seem a little less grotesque when she attacks me as i walk past. I'm in love.
I waste an awful lot of time, i reckon. And considering I'm usually awake for more hours than most, normal, non-nocturnal people, my lack of accomplishment in my waking hours are even more depressing. My sleeping hour(s), however, have convinced me that my boyfriend is going to cheat on me when i visit him, and his mistress has an awful high-pitched voice. Ah, the art that is imagination.
I will be sending my christmas cards tomorrow. I'm sending fifty something, and handing out another bunch, and I'm not entirely sure why, seeing as though the majority of those who will be recipients don't like me nearly as much as i like the idea of them being my 'friend.' Christmas does strange things to me, like compells me to spend all my money on items that nobody wants, wrap them in paper that has trees on it, and then claim it was picked out with love, or something. Lies, it was picked out with a foul taste in the back of my throat telling me i'm wasting my time. Joy to the world.
It is currently 2 something am, and after an hour or so of facebook stalking, another hour of forumming, and many horrid songs finding their way to the play section of my iPod thanks to my friend 'shuffle songs,' the exhaustion is almost overpowering enough to let me sleep. As i should have done some hours ago, when George did perhaps, somewhere in between my hanging up after being delerious with unexplained sadness, and my several rediallings of his number with the false hope that he would wake back up. For a naight he was gonna 'stay up as late as he could,' i think 12 is pretty weak. I get there without even trying. I really shouldn't get grumpy at him for needing one of the basics for human life; perhaps i'm just jealous i'm not granted the same mercy by my mind.
So, turns out, I'm more like my mother than i thought. Let's leave it at that, shall we?
That's a lot of writing that says nothing in particular. Fabulous.

I love you, George. Promise.