Can't write my paper but I can post wtf?

I just feel like writing about all the things that's bothering me at the moment and so I'm going to. First off this all started with Monday when my body decided that it didn't want to freakin sleep till 4 in the morning when I had to get up in time enough to be to class for 9:45. My school is not anywhere close. So I force myself to wake up and my body didn't even want to move. It felt like I crashed and I hate that. Then oddly I don't remember anymore of Tuesday. I think I came home and took a nap. Yes! I took a nap from about 2 to 4:30 and that is all I remember until I wake up tired on wednesday as well. How wonderful right? Well on wednesday I go to school to find out that I have two essays due 2day(which is the next day) I hadn't even seen one of the essays and so I'm like shit. What can ya do. I get home and check out the crap I have to do. Its not much just something I didn't want to find out last minute I had to do. Especially with my being so damned tired. I was too tired to freakin sleep! To tired to see. I hate being that tired. Its annoying when I need 2 do shit. And there was deff.. shit I needed to do. And now I'm getting pissed by every little thing. Well last night I figured that I probably wouldn't get any work done in that tired state(Its pissing me off how bad my spelling is.) So I took a risky step and went to sleep semi early and I say semi because it takes me fucking forever to fall asleep. I love it. So I was supposed to wake up early and I did, but then the migraine hits me. OOOO I shoulda seen that one coming. And so I finally get up around maybe 8 and begin(knowing I had to leave the house around 10) And My dumb ass couldn't get started on the paper until around 10. Two swift words and I left for school immediately. The more I started to think I was pissed. Mad for a few reasons. One that my 'friends' didn't tell me I had 2 papers due. The other reason was that my first reason, while i can be mad about it, was bull because its not their responsibility to tell me about that in the first place. So then I'm back to being mad at myself which causes all sorts of cute little thoughts in my head. And so now I'm mad that I'm stuck in my little way and that I have to get out of it. My biggest thing is that I'm a big baby and I have to change and I don't want to. I hate how things are set up and I only hate them because that system doesn't fit me. I'm lazy and I want things to be in my face because its easier then having to shuffle through all the shit its hidden behind and in between. And so now today I'm supposed to email the papers in which when I came home I had to write(Still fuckin tired btw) and I pulled up what I started and was again too tired to think of words. So I opted to take a 20 minute nap. Yippie! And now it's 10. That nap was at 6 going on 7. I love life. Especially since I still have a headache. Two papers to do and a pain in my chest. Freakin beautiful. I need handball in my life. And my mother's secret stash of no doze hehe. Or that 5 hour drink. That one's easier to find so I think I shall indulge in that.

-Later Days

Jacket

There are many purposes for a jacket
There's many things they can be used for
Mostly to shield you from things
To shield your body from the cold
To shield friends from the truth
Much like hiding
To hide your laundry day shirt
To hide your actions
Was I hiding? Or was he hiding me?
Upholds a false image
To isolate us into groups
Hiding in plain sight
Covering your actions.
Their eyes hidden from my rejecting face
But one thing a jacket can't do
It doesn't protect
Shields breaks
Hidden things can be found
But protection... That's different
No holes. No cracks
The faults only in the protector and the protected.

I'm So Imperfect

I'm so incomplete
Like a half written story
With a deep plot, but no growth
Like butter with no toast.
Like a cold drink, a wooden table and no coast.
I'm so imperfect
Like a constant writer
Who often falls short for words
.
.
.
.
.
Ew....
A broken mirror with half written words.
Showing part of the truth
With a incomplete message of all importance
Transparent but dust makes it shifty
Sometimes content
Sometimes worn
Always feeling.
.
.
.
.
.
I'm just not feelin it...

That word I want to use

There has been so many times that I've wanted to use that word
To say it and have a personal meaning like b4
For all the times we've headbutted each other
For all the times you've made me laugh
For every time you said I kicked you out of the bed
I just want to use that word like everybody else
I want you to be here to claim your title
To wear your crown
Many can try but never replace you
They say I'd make you proud and it makes me cry every time
I know you wouldn't want me to
But I never thought that the dictionary in my head
would have that definition erased.
It was stuck in my silly little head
That I could call to you anytime and you'd be here to answer forever
So instead I hold onto my little bit of ignorance
And at night when I go to bed
When everything is dark and as quiet as ever
I whisper: Goodnight Daddy

Thoughts of the hopeless

So again here I am and i may or may not end up writing a poem about this. I'm not venting this time, but just writing how I feel... Somewhat. So today I had class. English and humanities and I went downtown. Everything was kool and I played handball. I felt alive and good once I got back into my flow. Its been so long since I've played and I was really shitty at first. But I kept playin and got better. Well started almost playin how I used to. So I see a few people I haven't seen in awhile and meet up with a friend. I asked him and he read to me the comments my professor left on my english paper and I don't know why, but I just got like... really sensitive over it. I usually feel so great after playing handball, but I don't remember feeling that usual high. Just the before sore tiredness right now. Things just feel so different. On my paper I don't know why, but all those comments that I couldn't read (kuz I suck at reading script) made me so damn touchy. I'm usually very open to critisim... well more open then I think I actually should b. Somebody says lets change this and I usually shrug my shoulders and say ok. I hate when ppl want me to expand on things. And I really don't know why what was said on that paper made me so angry kuz in all actuality I didn't even think it was understandable with me writing it at 4 in the morning and all. But I feel like I have to do the whole paper over... Like everything I've been doing so far was nothing. I didn't feel hollow but a different kind of empty and for a while all ambitions left me. It actually felt like I had a wall guarding the fact that I had none and didn't want to do anything and for a second that wall broke. Forcing me to feel that I actually don't want to do anything. I don't want to write in my future. Nor make music or games. Or even play them. I don't want to help people with their personal problems so I'm lost as to what I'm doing in college. I have no goal, but to just finish. It isn't like high school where I can just barely get by and finish it. I have to have a focus and whatnot now. I don't want to focus on anything. I don't even have a clue as to what to focus on. I don't know what to do. I'm tired of school and all the things it asks of me. Yes. Very tired. I don't care that I have it easy compared to most ppl anymore. Let me just be tired. Stop comparing me. If I wasn't so hellbent on not crying before anyone I would right now. I had always said that I just need to get through school so I can do what I need to do, but I don't even know what that is anymore. Its bad enough I can't focus when I have my incentive, but how will I do it when I have none. And another thing... I have almost always tried my best. I have always tried to make it seem like I didn't do as good as I could so doing better is not an option 4 me. I'm just not feeling things today... I have no idea why I feel like this, but I'm a bit scared.

And so I'm sitting

I'm in this hard wood chair
In this hard wood room that I've stumped mt toe on on more than one occasion.
And I can't think of a damned word to write but these now
And it irritates me
How I can only write when I get the need to
When that sensation overwhelms me
Mostly when I have no way to jot down the thoughts
Which annoys me to no end
Why does it seem like whenever I try I can't
So Imma keep kickin out thoughts till one kicks me back
Because I'm not please with myself.
Its not that there's lack of inspiration
But that I'm dullin too much to notice.
So who am I going to blame?
No one?
The fact that this is no ones fault stays in my mind
But it doesn't feel right not blaming no one for this trash
Seeping through the tip of my fingers
On this key board
In my pencil
Through my nerves that transport thoughts if they do.
In my mind
With no purpose in mind.
In thought or even in this realm
School telling me that there's a process to writing
Which I somehow ignore every time I put words to some paper or screen.
Writers keep their purpose in mind
Keep the audience in mind
Keep their word choice in mind
Keep their tone in mind
But I do none of that
So is it that I'm not a writer or someone is lying?
Is there some type of exception that I don't know about but seem to be apart of?
Maybe, but hey, since when do I like to follow people
This isn't the first and no where near the last
but just a process I guess.
And not some purpose, tone minding writer
but my own
Crazy, unbalanced and personal.