(no subject)

Dear Tuesday,

Go to hell.

No really. GO TO FUCKING HELL.

Had enough already,
~Megan


Dear Computer,

Thanks a fucking lot. I just love having to rewrite pages because you can't save my shit before restarting. Thanks for nothing.

Fucking had it,
~Megan


Dear Jagen,

See above. Story going to be late. Will try my damndest to do tonight.


Sorry for slacking,
~Megan

Burning Bright 15, 16

And all the little pieces begin to come together. Only two weeks left ^_~

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(no subject)

There's only about fifty million fucking things I need to do, but frankly, Scarlett, I don't give a fuck. I'm going to hammer out Jagen's story if it mother fucking kills me and then I'm going to say screw it to what I *should* be working on and write some of Sasha's story b/c right now his angst level matches my mood and maybe that will get him to STFU.

Ugh, my moodiness will be the death of me. I'm afraid I was spoiled rotten growing up and in college, where I had people that cheered me up whether I wanted to be cheered up or not.

Ah, well. That's what the writing is for. Off to torture stepbrothers and then Sasha.