Death On A Tuesday.Sounds like a poem?

I love my silhouette[clickhereassholes].You don't?Fuck off.

Tuesday is going to be the longest,toughest and the last day of my life.A day which begins with Maths,every other day begins with that,has got two Economics classes and a bunch of other fat women blabbering for 45 minutes each and a short dork trying to be tall,and women bickering about women,and an ugly looking squid for lunch,and chinkies grabbing copies and copying stuff like mad,and friends talking about their boy friends and an ugly,fat,ill-clad,protruding-muscled woman leaving sarcastic comments,and a room beside a green,grassy meadow,and drifting eyesight,then punishment,a round of Bingo championship,winning,submitting copies that'll be stamped by Puran Daju,a bus loaded with puking kids,peeing kids,shouting kid,kids with chocolates,a buxom,spectacled idiot,and others too,a tired,dead girl staring at a place with no kids and et viola,a kid rolls in,a red eyed chauffeur,unfinished lunched,unfinished conversation,unlocked cupboard,hasty exit,a nice but boring man's notes,giggles,phones beeping,a father and mother prying the girl's lips open to stuff in food claiming that she's underweight,a stupid sibling,a mad barking puppy,untouched homeworks,smoke,out of my mouth,fermented juice inside my mouth,dialing numbers,on hold for an hour,sad,dejected,lonely,unwanted,disconnected girl,slumber!Uh-oh!Long sentence.

Are we over with Tuesdays yet?*dreads*