Tonight is a samaritan night. Maybe it was a Jonah day, I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention. The two hour paper drained me out and I might as well have been in my pajamas to go to uni as well as not. But it is over, and I am as I knew I would be. Forlorn. Forgive me for all that I am not, forgive me now, because I shall not be a pretty penitant much longer. I might morph into a potato-shaped monster, I might elope with Oscar (which one? The grouch or the Wildely sexy one?), or worse still, become cold and heartless. I am most afraid of the latter because I feel it's clammy claws clutching at air, inches from my face. I spit at it, shaking, and look it over with disgust. Cold hearts don't bleed but are easily broken.