Still Alive, yep.

Thought I’d died? (which is probably similar to a lot of first-lines in my posts xD)
It’s okay, you can save my eulogy into your My Documents folder and save it for later. Password lock it, my suggestion. I think Word has those options.
I did that once (only to forget the super complicated password).

So anyhow, I have this super over-due request to draw Bebe and her glameow from Pokemon.
Plus I have a few other stuff to do that isn’t really drawing-based or hobbyistic, if that’s a word (prolly not because it has the red squiggly line under it).

So how’s high school, you ask?
It’s okay, it’s interesting. I guess. It’s actually really fun—I’m really enjoying it, you know. The classes really intrigue me and I always have a thirst for knowledge now--
naw I’m lying.
It’s school. What can you expect.

But it’s nice to have a really interesting art class at the end of the day. My table, consisting of three people excluding me, is quite an interesting group. Two juniors and a sophomore. (And me.) It’s interesting how the chemistry of this combination works out. Never realized how strange you become when you go to high school.
Half the time they’re insulting each other, the other half they’re coming up with new insults and sarcastic remarks. No kidding, but it really makes my day interesting. It’s really amusing watching them, you know. We have a name for each other, too. Really random, actually. Supposedly I’m Chives. Who knows why. But it’s really a strange yet interesting experience, sitting at that art table. People around us prolly think we’re strange in the head, though. xD The sophomore once somehow ended an insult-session by using “land mammal” as a derogatory term. Ended mostly because of the bafflement, the excessive laughter, and the confusion between the rest of us, actually.
Plus painting is fun. It’s nice. We’re painting ink bottles sitting on a mirror. Shading with the monochromatic scale, that is.
Yes, I’m healthy and well, you can save the eulogy onto My Documents. Don’t email it to me—I haven’t even written a will yet.
Nothing much to pass down, anyhow (besides the thousands of dollars—what. what. You didn’t read that. What thousands of dollars? Noo, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Nope. Nope, it’s not in the bank, no, no, really, no. I don’t have money. Don’t ask me for money. I’m broke.).
…
I’ll just classify that as a minor fart at the back of the brain while it was still (mal)functioning.


:D BYE!