Life is...obnoxious. Like that mosquito that won't ever stop buzzing in your ear, and when it does, it's only to inconvenience you with its itchy venom in your tan leg. Return mosquito buzzing. Or like that constant chatter in Calculus class when you are really trying to focus. You want to scream. It would be considerably inappropriate.

Sometimes, you see life as one huge empty notebook, for you to write down anything you wish. Your very own notebook with only your scribbles and typewritten font and doodles and tear stained pages and chicken scratch from where you couldn't scribe it all fast enough.

Other times, life seems like a pre-filled notebook with someone else's writing. Someone else's choice of font. Pages ripped. Shuffled around in the order you wouldn't prefer.

I didn't choose today to be a bad day. I can't even point out what made it a bad day. However, it was. Thank you, pre-filled notebook.