High River? Wait What?

Went to school yesterday. Fell asleep on the bus?
It was a rather interesting experience,
One minute you're awake, surrounded by several large and (to be frank) smelly teens and the next minute it's just you and an old man.
Not to say that the old man wasn't nice. He was just a tad... Odd.
It's not everyday you're prodded awake on a bus by an old man.

Bus-1
Kraft-0

I'd post something I'd written, but I'm fresh out. Plus my documents aren't on this computer...

Blending matches in a blender (where else?) right now. I'll post the video of the bomb later.


Thats about all.

Oh yeah High River = OMGWTFBBQ!?

Written in IT

While I was supposed to be "exploring exciting career oppurtunities!" I wrote this instead.

You forget how you got here

and the question pierces a fine tantrum through your mind.

Maybe the question is this:

Why are you here? Where did you come from?

But no, the question you're too afraid to ask is:

What happens next?

You have, after all, no idea what you've gotten yourself into.

You see some faces, and an instinct tells you they mean something to you.

But your ability to recognise their details is lost like you are.

Some voices cut through the intangible boom of a hundred conversations,

and though you've heard the words before,they tell you nothing you can use.

You feel a heat that's overbearing, but don't worry, you're not really burning.

That's just your superficial arteries dilating, flushing blood from your core.

The same thing happens with alcohol, but as far as you know

you're still sober.

Your skin's moist and one of these faces that seem so familiar to you points and stares,

saying "Your face!"

Somehow, you know what these words mean and touch your cheeks and your lips.

The touch of your hands feels so warm.Y

ou think you might be sick, and feel something coming up.

But it's not something inside you.

Your face meets with the floor,

and though the floor is cold and hard

you tell yourself it's like falling into the deepest, softest bed.

And suddenly, the question doesn't feel so real anymore.

Because cold and wounded,

lost in the crowd,you feel safe.

And the lie is more comforting than any reality.

So you tell yourself that you're home.

Introduction.

Hi.



The name is Kraft Singles.



Obviously that's not my real name.



I have a strange obsession for American Style dairy products.

I am a student at Western Canada High School.

Most people would agree that I am in fact a swell guy.

I will be updating regularly, seeing as I have nothing better to do.

I think I have more friends on facebook than I do in real life.

2 hours of Face Time is all I need each day. Thats all.

Oh here's a snippet of a story I'm writing.

"Once you know you’re going to die, it sort of narrows your focus. You begin to see triviality in what you used to think was importance, and you start to see importance in what used to be small and insignificant. My name is Dan Sturges; I work for the United States government in an underground lab. We examine deadly viruses and try to create cure. Last week there was an accident, and everyone was exposed to a lethal virus with an incubation period of three weeks. Three weeks to know if you’re going to live or die. However, I know I’m going to die, you see I was the closest one to the virus when it broke out. I literally breathed the fumes from the broken glass. If you really want to hear about it the first thing you’ll want to know is where I was born, what my lousy childhood was like, and maybe even my whole autobiography. I really don’t want to go into that right now, to tell you the truth it kind of bores me. Besides, my parents would probably have a heart attack apiece if I told you anything personal about them. It’s not that they’re not nice people or anything, it’s just they’re very touchy. They don’t really like people talking about them. That’s why I’m just going to tell you about all the mad things that happened to me in the past three weeks. Let’s start from the beginning. "

That's all

For now.