*cratches head over how "automatized" fits into the poem*

Peter has to go, because I hate him. See? I'm using such brilliant logic that I fear I may have to kill myself from the stupidity of it.

That or I shouldn't be doing things like this this early in the morning, but is it my fault that the meetings weren't regularly scheduled? No. And since I odn't feel like doing homewor, or find wherever it is my friends hang out on days I'm late, I'm exploiting the school computers in an attempt to catch up with my flist.