Dear College

Dear College,
Since I am applying to you perhaps I should tell you a few things...
My grades are sometimes a T-Rex that  had a jar of jam that it couldn't reach.
But that is an illusion.
They were actually pickles.
Pickles that I experimented with the hope of the perfect sandwich
I was unafraid of failure, for how could I succeed if I've never tried something new?
I put pickles in milkshakes, and cakes on pancakes.
I put chicken with waffles.
I tried Pan-fried Rhubarb and Salmon tossed with Lime Soup.
I made Toasted Roast Beef Gravy topped with Spam.
A peanut butter and jello sandwich,
The meals I threw up on gave me valuable lessons.
Don't eat throw up.
Don't eat things that have made me throw up.
Don't eat rocks.
Eat things that I haven't tried in a while, maybe it's good.
Don't eat meals that that are good all the time.
But I needed the most perfect sandwich.
So I kept trying.
There is no perfect sandwich.
I asked myself again and again, what do I want out of life?
A good job? An edjamacation? Popularity? Friends? unpopularity?
This is what I focused on.
I have tried them all.
I learned skills that I felt would make me happy.
Learning to learn I've learned.
took a lot of error.

Prove to me that YOU are not a robot!

Even if I show no emotion, or pretend I don't care about some things, I know I'm human.
I don't follow the same algorithms or same logic much.
I sometimes forget to brush my teeth.
I find myself at 2 in the morning reading a silly fantasy novel.
I don't follow a few social norms.
I find math enjoyable
I learn.
I seldom see things the same way twice.
I misinterpret other's souls...
I'm not afraid to forgive.
I am not afraid to care.
I try my best to show my true self to those who look for it.

But.

I sometimes wonder if others are human....

Are you human?

You seem flawless...
You seem perfect.
Any mistake you make
seems to be a part of your programming, an illusion,
only to make it seem you are human.
I see fake smiles.
false determination
fake undetermination.
fake stupidity
mindless words.
memes.
popularity.
sheep.
assumptions.
creativity that always seems to be the same.
 I see People who won't look me in the eyes in the hallways.
Are you hiding problems or machines?
Is being a machine a problem?

My brain is a prison.

I don't know how you feel.

I cannot see through your eyes.

I wish I could connect with you  like a robot.

But for now I must guess.

Well, the world is ending so why do a blog?

Why should I do a blog tonight instead of enjoying my last moments?
The Red moon is supposed to kill us all tonight.
I could be reading a good book right now.
or sleeping.
perhaps praying,
or actually looking at the moon that will destroy me.
But nope, I'm writing a blog about being too lazy to write a blog.
Sigh
Writing in the silence of a room once bursting in laughter.
In the hot air that makes me yawn.
Yawn
Perhaps I know for fact that that I won't die.
maybe my instincts scoff at the red moon of doom.
I could die tonight... but I probably won't.
That's probably why I wrote this blog.
yep.
that's it.

#不同 સર્જનાત્મકતા લોકો ઘણો ભેળસેળ

Behold my creativity.

בסופו של היום, אתה תוהה מה המילים האלה אומרת. הם שונים. הם תוהו ובוהו. הם לא ניתן לקרוא, הם יצירתיים, אבל רק אם אתה באמת יכול לקרוא את מה שאמר. אני יכול להיות מעליב אותך, אני יכול לעשות לך משהו. אם אתה יכול לקרוא את זה אז תודה Google לתרגם, זה סוג.

זה יצירתי לך, אבל אלה אנשים שמדברים אזרביג'אן רואים את זה כחבורה של מילות רגילות.

מה הוא כאוס לזבוב הוא נורמלי לעכביש.

untitled post(1)

For the longest time
I thought that untitled
was actually
united
I thought that all those papers I wrote
were in a guild that would someday foretell my downfall
How correct I was.

Crayons back Me Give

belly my in ukulele the playing goblins the hear could and eyes my closed I ,instead that ate I so ,ukulalee a into turned they them eat could I before but ,them at quickly I so snakes became they but shoe my tied quickly I so ,tingling were batsenses my but ,sleep to off drifted I as head my sustain barely could neck my and ,hats in cats ,it ate and it found ketchup the in frogs the ,away flew and ears grew foot s'grandma my then But ,sick m'I ,ok up ended I so scarff new a knitted grandma my but bones my of all broke I ,ears any have t'didn it cause hear t'couldn foot the but ,AHHHHHHH said I ,nose my bit and underground from came foot giant a then ,attitude positive new my with death honourable an was hippo a by killed being that decided I ,positive became I and me charged hippo the and ,hippo angry a AHHHHHHH ,said I then ,cat my to it gave and catnip my of out burst I and ,said intercom the sick m'I Yaaay ,astroid an into starship my flew I day One

latterday mermaid.

(:):;:()P:;)(

I tried to sing, but no vibration came,

I tried to spout witty banter yet no sound came.

As if cursed by an insane hippo which... wich? Ah, witch, that hated me. 

I became sick as the almost exactly Sadies dance started.

(and am still sick)

My throat felt like it had been pierced by arrows then drenched in lemon juice.

The dust only made it worse as my vocal chords got clogged.

My voice abandoned me.

I have become the latter day ("little") Mermaid.

I decided to roll with it.

Meaning I stopped talking.

My Date must have thought me very strange.

During the slow songs, Instead of talking, I attempted to speak with only my face, I exaggerated the dancing until the dancing made talking difficult. My date returned the gesture, but in a more confused fashion.

My date asked me how I was, and I did a wee jig.

My date asked me what colour my toothbrush is and I pointed to somebody s shirt.

My group asked me if I was insane and I gave them a insane look.

It was either unbelievably creepy or just plain strange.

I thought about telling her about my curse, but I was way too far in to back out.

The only way out was forward.

But then friends of mine kept popping up trying to talk to me.

I attempted to talk to them with my face but it was too dark.

So I just started dancing.

It was the was a fun date, but it was akward.

Soooo incredibly  awwwkward.

And hilarious.