Philip wanted me to blog about him. I told him I would and sent out a tweet about it.
Then I forgot or figured a tweet would suffice or something else happened. Whatever.
Today he accosted me in the hallway. He said that I had not blogged about him, I had twittered about him, which doesn't count, or something.
Apparently twitter is for stupid people. With no lives, and who want everyone to know what they're doing at all times.
Um, that's so me. I told him I was horribly offended.
Whatever. Exhibitionist, I am.
I like to tell people what's going on with me at all times, even if they're not listening. People who know me will acknowledge this.
That's why I hate secrets, as I said before. It kills me.
Philip is cool though, because he's among the few people at school who I can talk to about existentialism.
That number is growing, but he's notably interested.
Props to him.
Although in the title, I think I just called him a twit.
Clara
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