Hah take it how you want it. If my writing makes you think all the more reason for me to let people read it.

ok then here is something else I wrote after I was arrested and grounded. I got bored and walked to the gas station and made a little fictional story out of it. MIght be some errors seeing as this one is almost a year old too.

[align=center]Am I as Bored as it is Hot Outside?[/align]


I stick my hand in my pocket halfway expecting a handful of nullity to exist within my palm when I pull it out for inspection.This time I'm wrong.The crumbled up dollar that rests before me is discrepant to my adverse assumptions of what could have possibly existed in my pocket.I'm not complaining though, this discovery has now given my wearisome day a new significance.A walk to the nearest gas station is in mind.

I make it to the front door reluctant to open it because the sedateness the AC leaves on my body is compelling enough to give me second thoughts.I shake my head no and continue through the door.The serene heat wraps around my body and I already feel like I won't make it.I refuse to let myself think I will go back into the very house that has made my arid, and uninteresting day...well, a day. Although this walk might not have the potential to cultivate one ounce of interest on the behalf of my attention span I don't care theres nothing else to do.

I hit the street, thoughts revolving like the inner works of a clock, nothing stands before me and this gas station except a world of perplexity that an individual such as myself seems to dimunitive to exist in.Thats not stopping me though.I keep walking, passing houses wondering what methodical, routine formalities are keeping these people inside entertained.It dosn't cross my mind that these people could be as unfortunate as I am with entertainment or I would not be walking to this gas station alone.It dosn't matter I keep walking.

If heat could make noise on this day I would find it nearly impossible to hear anything.Instead the vacuous drone of sprinklers, and air conditioners occupy my ears as my mind ventures elsewhere.I turn my head and see an older black woman walking.Yes walking, not driving.At this day and age its kind of sad to admit that when you actually see an older person walking, why do we automatically presume that this person is not as opulent as the rest in there comfortable cars? I have no time to feel guilt on an age old issue, I have walking to do.
At last my intention of leaving the house in the first place is now in sight.
The hasty smell of gasoline stings my nose letting me know I have finally reached my destination.I walk up to the familiar bin of 37 cent soda's that has never let me down before when I was running low on cash.I put my hand in my pocket to pull out the discovery that set me out on my conquest.To my convience its still there.This time it appears different to me though. Inconsequently earlier when I held the crumbled dollar in my hand I made no effort to check if the dollar was whole, because the thought of me actaully keeping a half of a dollar in my pocket was never really an authentic thought in my mind at all.Where had I messed up? Did it matter? No it didn't because I had preoccupied myself, the whole point I left my house in the first place.
I put the soda back and headed back home.