bittersweet...

So, I don't know about anyone else but, I seem to have a curse. I start and end each semester with a cold sore. It's perfect timing, too. I mean, who wouldn't want to introduce themselves to new people from class and church with a giant LANDMINE on their face?! Needless to say, my confidence to continue life, despite my lack of genetic lottery winnings, must be what attracts bees to the honey... and the fact that I like to talk to people, especially good looking guys at school, in an Australian accent allows people to see past my leprosy, and daydream about our future together, scuba diving the reefs of Sydney or Brisbane. This is not a joke, people. I speak only the truth when I tell you that the cute, dreamy, and perfectly tall security guard who lets me in on Tuesdays at the office, has a crush on me because of my accent! We got to talking one day and it was love at first Barby (short for a BBQ from down under). But, what do you know- it's the end of the semester. Therefore, my body decides it's time to hate me again and stress out about upcoming finals, WITHOUT TELLING ME! Alright, it does tell me. To keep with tradition.... Enter: Cold Sore.