it's high tide, baby.

polly's back, back again, like a soggy flannel.
tired, struggling with exams and shizzle.
sick, coughs and colds are painful.
supposed to be revising.


i'm in too bad a mood to study for drama/biology/spanish. screamo at the top of my laptop's lungs does that.


and no, i can't really explain the title, but it's what's playing.
unless high tide means shiteous times in which one learns to love oneself.