A Blog to End All Faggots

I'm sick. Kyle told me not to run today. He said I should see a doctor. My throat hurts, and it's pissing me off. I've been getting up in the middle of the night, because I can't sleep. When I get up, I yell and feel like I'm about to cry. Sunday night, I got up to get some Gatorade, and I sat out there in the room for a little while, drinking my stuff. When I was in my bed (the whole time before and the whole time after), I kept thinking I was with these guys again, and we were hanging out by the boys club, reading each others blogs. This kept me from getting the sleep I wanted and desperately needed. I finally started feeling drowsy when I tried to imagine walking into Shelbyville with some black guys, but then it was time to get up and go to school. That morning, my mom asked me if my sister was up with me in the middle of the night. She said she heard someone running through the hall, screaming.
Monday night-slept a little.
Tuesday night-got up at about two, and watched TV and ate some chicken breast with mashed potatoes and gravy and had some water with blue pills, then went back to bed.

Yesterday, Tuesday, again, I decided not to run in the cold weather. Coach Man sent me back to the high school to talk to Kyle and ride a bike. When I got there, I saw many children in the weight room, making up missed gym classes. This reminded me that I had one gym to make up. Kyle told me to ride a bike for twenty minutes, keeping it over 100 rpm's. My twin, Blayr, was already in there, making up a gym. This was my first time ever being in this sort of situation, so I asked Bowmanchick what to do. She told me I had to ride a bike five miles or twenty minutes, whichever comes first. I said okay, and went over to write my name on the gym make-up thing. Blayr had been the last person to come, and was the last name on the list, except her name was like this: Blaire Green. So, I wrote, "Blayr Hartman." I went over and got on a bike, and told my twin all about it. I got on the bike and started riding. After about eighteen minutes, Bowmanchick came over and said, "Hey, you're done."
I said, "How far do I have to go?"
She said, "You only had to go five miles."
"I'm almost done then."
"You're already done. Look. This is how far you've gone(Bowman chick points to the mileage thing that reads: 7.8). You've gone too far."
I then started to pedal backwards, to get rid of the unwanted mileage.
Bowmanchick: Don't pedal backwards, just get off.
Blaire: I've got this.
Bowmanchick: you can just go whenever you're done.

I was about to leave school when this kid came over and asked for a ride. I told him I would take him home. I said, "My car's over on this side."
When we got out there, he asked, "How long have you been over here?"
I then asked, "On this side of the school?"
Then he said, "No. How long have you been over here from Germany?"
So, the kid thinks I'm from Germany, and the whole way to his house, I told him about life in Germany and my house parents and stuff. He didn't seem to doubt anything I said. I am a pretty good storyteller, though. I could probably make up stuff to fool anyone in a situation like this. Just look at my trophy.

I saw Clinton Coffey a whole bunch. I gave him lots of hugs, and I showed him my genitals (I've been showing lots of people my genitals lately). Today, I was walking out of school, and I saw him pulling up in the parking lot, and he jumped out, and I threw my binder, and we ran towards each other, and I jumped and he catched me, and he spinned around with me in his arms, and that's it.

Oh, yeah. One more thing. On our boulder run on Monday, we were heading back, and we were on that one long road, 250 south, I think, and the wind was coming at us very strong, and it carried the soud of a guy in a brown truck that plays ice cream truck music. Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was watching over me.