venting.
What is it about silence that is so bothersome?
That boy called me. Whatever his name is.
Every minute had to be filled with words. His fear of silence even rubbed off on me. He kept going on about how interesting I was.
I kept envisioning myself hanging by the telephone cord.
I felt stuck up.
He forced me to speak.
He asked what political party I belonged to.
He said my vocabulary turns him on.
He told me I need to "get over" my anxiety issues. It was more of an order than advice.
I imagined hanging him by the telephone cord.
He said he'll pick me up on Saturday and we'll hang out in downtown Portland. He said he'd pay for dinner, and would do this and that...you know, the typical "I'm a macho man" crap.
My optimism is failing me.
I never knew a 28-minute phone call could be so exhausting and frustrating.
That boy called me. Whatever his name is.
Every minute had to be filled with words. His fear of silence even rubbed off on me. He kept going on about how interesting I was.
I kept envisioning myself hanging by the telephone cord.
I felt stuck up.
He forced me to speak.
He asked what political party I belonged to.
He said my vocabulary turns him on.
He told me I need to "get over" my anxiety issues. It was more of an order than advice.
I imagined hanging him by the telephone cord.
He said he'll pick me up on Saturday and we'll hang out in downtown Portland. He said he'd pay for dinner, and would do this and that...you know, the typical "I'm a macho man" crap.
My optimism is failing me.
I never knew a 28-minute phone call could be so exhausting and frustrating.