I haven’t opened any presents yet and it’s almost twelve. My mom isn’t even out of bed. D:

What should I do for my birthday tommorrow? It’s my sixteenth, and I’m just not feeling it/ I have no friends who love me enough to just come and visit. I wish I didn’t have to ask people to come over. YOU’RE ALWAYS INVITED. GUYS. It’s not like we’re doing anything anyway.

So, yeah, yesterday my sister told me she would take me out to eat for my birthday, ANYWHERE, and I’m the huge uncreative idiot who told her Steak and Shake. That was fine, until my dad dropped in on us to ruin my life.

“You don’t need that egg nog milkshake.”

And then it got onto a convo about what I want to do for the rest of my life, which is absolutely nothing.

*(Well, actually, I want to be the most well rounded person ever, so I can home school my possible child/ren and be a magical sparkling mom who can sing and garden and be a general wealth of knowledge. So, I’ll have the piece of mind knowing at least ONE of the future generation isn’t a complete uncultured dumbass because I raised them. IT’S HOPELESSLY UNREALISTIC/EGOTISTICAL, I KNOW THAT. SHUT UP.)

Earlier, that same day, the head guidance counselor called me up. And while she gets on everyone’s case about getting the best grades possible and stressing yourself in college, she completely accepted me saying I’m probably going to just graduate from high school by the skin of my teeth and then move on into a trade school so I can learn to cut hair. Well, no, she asked me afterward what future I actually WANTED, not the one that was most plausible.

I told her I wanted to inheirit the house after my dad dies, finally clean it, and then learn how to grow plants, and live on the property as sustained as possible. And operate a business from home that would be successful enough that I could take care of myself and pay my taxes. And maybe have a party at Easter every year.

I want to be a children’s illustrator, but I don’t think I’m talented enough to do it when I compare myself to the 87947948579587349857 other people who want that sort of job.  And that’s not just me being hard on myself, that’s me being honest.

And she let me go. I have F’s in all five of my core classes and she didn’t tell me to try to raise them up, or move into regular classes, or even go to fucking tutoring. WHAT. AM I THAT HOPELESS. OR DO YOU BELIEVE I’M JUST A HIPPY THAT’LL DROP OUT OF SOCIETY ANYWAY WHEN I GET OUT OF HIGHSCHOOL, SO WHO CARES IF THAT’S EARLIER OR LATER.

I also wish my art teacher would get off my case. At this pace, Mr. P, I’m not going to get into SCAD or whatever you’re planning. Leave me to die. I hate myself and the fact that I can’t motivate myself to do any work, even work I enjoy.

Once upon a time, there’s was this guy named Alphonso who got evicted from his apartment because his flatmates were in major debt and not paying their share of the rent. 

So, now homeless, Al went off into the wide world of sports to find his fortune.

He was convinced this meant (for him) to find a lost artifact called the mirror of Guadalajara, which was rumored to be worth a lot in rubles.

He hopped on his scooter and traveled to the planet of Bananacasca, where he happened to know an information broker posing as a hipster smoothie stand guy.

Anyway. Alphonso asked him if he knew the mirror’s whereabouts.

“OH, yeah, man. Some crazy mofo named Mago has it hanging over his mantlepiece. Lives in Uva.”, “You should go talk to Calce down in Limeade. She’s an acquaintance of his and’ll give you directions.”

As payment for the info, Smoothie G tried to weasel some out of Al, asking about the business his ex-roomies were in. About their location. But Al didn’t know, and simply frowned at him from behind his mask.

Finally, frustrated and in need of some sort of payment, SG asked instead to see what was under Al’s goggles and face mask.

Al complied, eager to traumatize the rude clerk in any way possible.

He gave SG a peek.

“Christ.”

At that, the mask was put back on, and Alphonso continued quickly on his way to Limeade.

When meeting Calce, she sent him to the planet of Lemonzest just over the way.

It wasn’t before long when Al came upon that planet too, and nervously sauntered up to Mago’s door. BUT. LO AND BEHOLD.

He was greeted by none other than one of the old roommates that made him homeless.

DUN DUN DUN. CLIFFHANGER BECAUSE I’M TOO LAZY TO FINISH COLORING THE STUFF. LIKE YOU CARED TO READ THIS.