Tell all my friends I'm dead

No I won't make my mind
I'm too good at wastin time
And I know that life is unpredictable
Just never know what I will find
Am I gonna stay, oh no
Am I gonna leave, I don't think so
I guess you can define me as that kind of guy
Maybe it's a big mistake
But baby that's a chance that I'll take

You say I don't know what I want
but it worked out just fine
You said it never could be done
but it worked out just fine
You can say anything you want
but it worked out just fine
If it works for me
then it works for me
It it works for me
then it works for me

I don't worry about where I'm goin
because I know just where I want to be

And if it works for me,
then it works for me.

Death by essay. Most commonly found in teenagers age 15-19. Fragile, sleep-deprived brains can explode from overthinking an essay, or frantically rushing to study for one last impossible test.

But mostly the essay one.
Essays and I aren't friends.
Why?

Given: Essays take at least three days of serious cognition.
One. My attention span is equal to the amount of time it takes to play one song on the piano. Not three days.
Two. My motivation runs out after about one hour of fruitless effort. Not three days.
Three. I treasure sleep above homework. My brain shuts off at nine thirty. Late night homework? Forget it.

So instead of using my last precious thirty minutes to continue the torture of my abstract mind, I choose to compose a seemingly pointless blog that structures my thoughts in a much more comprehensive way.

Something on my mind..:
If it works for me, then it works for me. If it doesn't disrupt the patterns of someone else's delicate soul, why is it their business? If it works for me, then it's good. In fact, it's right. I promise. I've prayed about it.
So why is it your business to refute the answer I received?

Something else on my mind..:
Why do I isolate myself? I have everyone convinced that I fit in. Except for myself.

And something number three..:
Why is he so good-looking?

That's just the woman in me baby.


...four weeks...