#@*!&%$ when i came home today i really wanted my mom to ask me how
my day was or aknowledge that i had returned from school. so i could vent to her
about stuff. actual stuff that i wouldn’t mind telling her even though she’d just tune out. but of
course she didn’t do this and i dont feel like talking to you


9 thoughts on “

  1. i have a whole jumble of things that need to be yelled or told softly. sometimes i settle for sharing with the nearest real accessable person. other times i dwell and dwell and dwell. sometimes i get to say the things i want to whom i want and that’s the best. but. i suffer from having feelings that swim and swim around all day. fortunately for me, tomorrow is bailey and i’s stay-in-the-basement-look-at-cute-boy-named-chuck-smith-in-1974-yearbook-but-also-talk-about-real-and-personal-things-forever night! sigh.

  2. I agree with hot shower. But if it’s any consolation my parents haven’t asked me how school was since 6th grade. And then it was a formality as a result of a silence. Just maim somebody, a brother or something. Something expendable.

  3. if i had that boy that had money maybe i could buy you a private jet for to come and have realbasement times. as you have no basement, nor time to save enough money tonight to come and see me. but you’re someone i could meet some day and not act weird around like other people. and smile at a lot! what is it about the internet that makes you not like exclamation points? i think it is that talking in run ons makes everything more interesting and so on and so forth and it is how people talk. or how i talk. suzbailstar loves you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s