From now on I'll post as a fourteen years old blogger!
Now I'm not a thirteen-year-old immature, now I'm fourteen year old immature. It seems so different:
-How old are you?-
-Fourteen-
-OMG! You're so cool and smart.-
-Yeah! too bad you're only thirteen-
Nothing will screw this day up. Not even my teachers that look up in wiki-how every day a step-by-step guide of how to make us pupils suffer. Not even the lack of celebration (I'll take care about that later) or the fact that I'll wear my horrible school uniform and stare at the clock mouthbreatherly waiting for recess just like any other day. Not even my sister reminding me that I'm closer and closer to death.
Cause even thirteen year old people know that: everyboby is gonna love today, love today, love today...
Yeah...



































credit


































