Postcards And Polaroids

I think people deserve it. And I have a hard time sometimes with that. I'm learning, and trying.

I'm feeling...I don't know. A little overwhelmed. Kinda distraught. Happy, because I'm listening to the band "The Elliot Project" on purevolume.com and it's exciting, because I'm Elliot. According to Brad. And YOU. YOU know who YOU are. So there.

I'm hungry, and have tons to do. I think I'll make a tuna sandwhich in the Snack Master for dinner, and maybe I'll leave it out, and have one at lunch tomorrow at school. Yummy.

I deduced that now, I think I'm ready for high school to be over. I mean, I'm going to miss the building, actually, and some of the teachers, like Mme. Boyd and Mr. Bowker, and some, some, of the kids, but not all of them. And I'll miss having a locker, because in college there are no lockers. I'll miss the senior hallway, because, heck, it took me four years to get there! And I think I'll miss Robert O'Brien wanting to look at the picture of the shirtless guy in Jade's locker. And I'll miss unofficial locker races to see who can open theirs first. And I'll quite miss lunch time. "I like you!" <-- I'll miss that, too, though I suppose I can still say it. And really, I'll miss my friends. And not just Hannah, Jade, and Kristina (I'm sorry you're name is last, Kristina. It's just how I say it). But Tony, Brittany, Liza, Cordelia, all the Caitlins, Nichol, Megan Pfile (My US Government buddy), and the French class people. I'm going to miss that class a lot.

I just realized that, evidently, I'm in a reminiscent mood.

Hmm.


Summer is calling its wanting postcards and polaroids
And memories of last year, but I can't let go
So let's drive until we don't know what road signs to follow
And end up in Wisconsin in the winter time
And find our homes dressed in snow covered in white for the first time
We could be nothing less than perfect.
And winter will freeze us here and we'll never go back home
Just cover our tracks. I doubt they'll even notice. I doubt they'll even care
Silent eyes speak for silent hearts in our game of love and death
Maybe it's too late for hope to save us. But, you know that I'm a dreamer
I promise you. That I'll die trying.

-"Postcards and Polaroids" by The Elliot Project