I suspected it to come in my 30's.
But here I am, 15 years old, going to bed at 6:30 on a Friday night, waking up at 5:30 on a Saturday morning... making enchiladas for breakfast and getting on the computer to write about stupid animal characters that aren't going to get me anywhere in life and only serve the purpose of distracting me from thinking about all of the fun my friends probably had without me the night before and will have later today.
And what are my fun plans for the day?
Write poetry and other such things about a dead old man who made cartoons, and then use a glue stick to put said works of art up on a yellow display board, otherwise known as "Power of One."
When will my life begin again?
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