I've been hung up on this admissions essay for the University of Manchester. I love to talk about myself, but for some reason, nothin' doin'. For a while I considered writing, "PLEASE LET ME IN!" over and over and over again.

Wouldn't that be the greatest story of my life? Getting into U. Manc like that?

I'll work it out.

Tomorrow, I am nineteen.

It's coming up. On the 8th. The big one nine.

He's dead.
What?
The world is going to explode before the year is out.

Another friend died last night.
She was car pooling back to SUNY Potsdam, and her car collided with an on coming pick up truck while they attempted to pass someone at an unsafe speed on a snowy road. She and the driver of the pick up are dead, the driver of her car and another passenger are in the hospital. This is the second death of someone close to me within this month, and the third within two months. All poetry has been sucked out of me, and I cannot think of anything to say for her. What is it with this place? It is tainted.

I remember when death meant flushing a goldfish down the toilet.