If only.

I were a good writer.

We had 40,000 dollars.

It weren't raining.

I didn't have to go to work.

We didn't need to go to the grocery store.

Ideas were freely flowing from my brain.

I could find something to spark my interest.

People didn't suck.

I didn't have so many self-esteem issues. (Self-esteem is for everybody. Self-esteem is for everyone.)

I could beat the next level of BanjoKazooie.

I knew things.

Our computer were faster.

Dentists weren't so expensive.

Everything weren't so expensive.

Money didn't exist.

Fucking news.

I would end this rant/stream of conciousness. It's not doing anyone any good. And I'm not particularly in a bad mood - or at least I wasn't at first - I don't know why I'm so ...bitterish. I think because I felt like I was forcing myself to write. Pfft. I'm stupid sometimes.

Next entry should be of lighter fare. Now, though, I think we need to go buy groceries. Hope everyone had a good April Fools Day.