drabble

Its 1.17am and I finished writing my essay about 20 minutes ago. Not bad, not bad at all. It comes easily, its just a matter of being bothered. Thats the trick being bothered. Its so easy to fall into little traps of not being bothered. Thats when you get too comfortable, when you get lazy and everything turns to custard.

I searched for my keys fruitlessly for nearly and hour before I was meant to go to a barbecue. I sat on my bed and decided to knit in order to kill time before my parents came home so I could ask them if they had taken them because I had left the lying around somewhere ( my dad always used to do this with my wallet when I was younger) I stamped my foot on my bed (frustration maybe?) and I heard something jangle. The keys had got between my fitted sheet and my matress some how. Odd.

Seeing Narie's cats quenched my desire to get one. I am contemplating fish instead. The thing about fish though is they never answer to their names. Its debatable as to whether they can even hear or not. I am captivated by the idea of something that responds to you. Somewhere I read that fish are meant to be soothing, bah. Perhaps I will not change the status quo. Who needs fish.

I found the one redeeming aspect of spring. The flowers. No other season has flowers like spring, they grow in clumps and masses forming hazes of colour.

I am writing so much because I am tired and I have just typed 2000 words and my fingers don't know how to stop.

It is a pretty situation and I know not what will happen. Don't be so quick to make promises. I am hopeful.