Don't ask about the title. It's just lyrics. I thought they were pretty. The whole song is bizarrely relaxing. O_O; Damn Eurovision. Release me from your godforsaken clutches!

I am sick. I am quite sick. I might cough a lung up soon. Perhaps someone would like to buy one?

Anyway. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Maybe I want to move to a small island in Sweden and waste away with a quill in my hand and paper in front of my face on an old wooden desk. Maybe I want to stay here forever, half-asleep, looking at the world through those dreamy eyes that can't decide whether they want to wake up and explore this world, or sleep and explore another. Maybe I want to be a sly cabaret singer, who could lead everyone on, then cry under the covers from an insatiable loneliness. People have made suggestions to me about what I should do. Perhaps I'll take one; it's not as if they've been suggestions for things I don't enjoy doing. It's not as if I can't change my mind.

Maybe I'll dance like a whirl in a waterfall.

I'll go to University. I've never seen someone on this side of the family do it. I'm going to do it, not only because I've always seen myself going, but to step on everyone else, for once. Everyone who seems to ignore my dad and I, look down on us for the way we are, I'm going to crush them. They all started their degrees, yes, but I'll be the only damned one to finish. I'll look down upon them all, because I want to sink to their damned level for once before I write in Sweden (or Australia. This option became delicious again as I wrote this), before I make drowsy decisions, before I sing my heart out. I want to be someone. I want to matter.

I need to start writing about me. I get inspired, but then nothing comes. It's a let-down, but I write down all the little glimmers of hope as I go on. I know I'll make something of them. I know I'll make something of me. They're never lost, the little ideas. They're just left to grow up a little while. When they're up, that's when I deal with them.

I'm pretty tired now, so I think I'm going to go to sleep.

I doubt you've even read this, but really, that's alright. It's great to pretend someone did, anyway.

Gee, I came off as crazy, didn't I?