Summer.Oh.Nine.

1,2,3..breaaaaaaaaaathe.
3,4,5..breaaaaaaaaaathe.
5,6,7..breaaaaaaaaaathe.
7,8,9..breaaaaaaaaaathe.

Doesn't work. So much. So much. So much going on in my small little head. I don't even know what to say or how to say it. Organic or inorganic cause, there is a cause and I fail to spot it. Yes, yes crazy much. People crave for summer breaks and here I am doing absolutely nothing expect oh, oh, oh washing dishes, cleaning up the house, refreshing Facebook homepages again and again, and sleeping to keep myself from slipping into depression. Vottay vacation! :)
Gibberish, gibberish, gibberish. Trash, kachra, garbage. That's just how trains of thoughts are. Continuous, flowing like mud from neuron to neuron. Sometimes collecting in a space, a cranial sinus maybe, clogging up the flow. Sedimenting. Sucking. Silently killing a few neurons. *dishum, dishum* those neural shot guns are working again! Slivers of silver and blue sparks amongst the mud, the ultimate 'good guys' make holes in the thick layer of muddy, creepy, slimy goo. The voids keep getting bigger and bigger. Until...voila! The mud's no more than very small segments of clay floating around in cerebrospinal fluid, waiting for favorable conditions again. I swear, I'm not bipolar, just very very very 'I don't know'. =)

Summer.Bummer.
Bummer.Summer.

Lets try agaaaain, Sidra.

1,2,3..breaaaaaaaaaathe.
3,4,5..breaaaaaaaaaathe.
5,6,7..breaaaaaaaaaathe.
7,8,9..breaaaaaaaaaathe.

Still doesn't work.

:)