Just because your daughter killed herself, Mrs Bond, doesn't mean that you should label MCR as Emo and "dangerous". They never intended for such things. Only your daughter had the smarts enough to go and torture herself "in the way of Emo". Why does 'Emo' even deserve a capital letter? Tell you what: it doesn't. Emo sucks.
Stupid people.
In dropping the above depressing subject, we visited the Health Fair thing at the Audi today, which helped us skip half of Commerce. The other half was spent lazing about in the library anyway, so I guess 'cher was feeling kind enough.
At the Audi, I got a free packet of 'Koko Krunch' and really confirmed my self-diagnosis of having OCD. I have it, but slightly. Now everyone will know what OCD is without me trying to convince them I seriously do have mental problems.
So I stared at those bottles, and stared...and stared...and stared. They didn't feel right to me. They had to be balanced. One had more liquid than the other and I just had to...
Steph and I met Cikgu Rozidah on the way back to class after staring at all the weird exhibitions of diseases, effects of smoking and brain haemorrhage.
"Hi 'cher," I say, trying to be polite as she walks past me. She suddenly stops and turns around.
"When do I have extra class with you?"
I look at Steph. "Thursday, 2 to 3," we reply.
"Uh, it's cancelled ah. We have a uh, fitness test for teachers."
I couldn't resist it. "So 'cher, you're running?"
She shuffles, looks slightly embarrassed. "Ah...Yes. But you don't need to tell the others ah. Just let them know no extra class this Thursday."
Isn't that great?
All right, my History is next to me, calling me to write this essay on BARIP.
See yahs.
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