I hate college
Icons that fit my mood at the moment:
Small, simple, safe price.
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die.
I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts.
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter.
I'm cutting, trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything.
Especially a fucking knife.
~The Used - I'm A Fake
I love her. I really do. But when she starts to treat me like the child I once was, I will snap. And she has no right to be affronted by my snapping.
Let me back up...
Applying for the fun place known as college. Also being a smart fortune cookie and applying for my masters program at the same time to hopefully make things down the road a lot easier. Thought I could ask my darling, sweet mother for help...
I guess not.
I show her a page, read to her what it says and slowly get more and more pissed as she grabs it from my hand and reads it over, not believing what I had just told her. The bitch made me print off the same application three times because she didn't believe that I had the right one printed off. Then she yells at me for wasting time!
And then, when she tells me to click on something on the computer, I click it, and in doing so, stop writing on the hard copy that I will be mailing in (hopefully on Monday). Then, when she sees that my hard copy is not completely filled out, she blows up at me, telling me "You must not want to go to college, since you aren't trying very hard to finish this application!"
I.loath.this.woman.so.freaking.much...
Nevermind the fact that your daughter is doing her college applications, that she has planned ahead and is even applying to PT school. No. Blow up at her because she accidentally wrote down the wrong information on a stupid peice of paper with random ink-squiggles on it.
*grumbles* This weekend is crap...
[Edit 7:10 pm (same night)]: I know that my handwriting sucks woman! But there is no need to make me feel even worse about myself.
Bitch: Is there any way that you can reprint these papers and write the information a little neater?
Me: *snaps* Mom, I know my handwriting sucks! But I have everything done! So get off my back
Bitch: *looks shocked that I actually have a backbone* *gets pissed at me* Fine, I'll rewrite it then!
Me: Whatever *says under breath* bitch...
Yeah, I have a slight problem with my cussing... Do I care?
Small, simple, safe price.
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die.
I'm not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight.
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pigmy size cuts.
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill, and spill over, and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter.
I'm cutting, trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything.
Especially a fucking knife.
~The Used - I'm A Fake
I love her. I really do. But when she starts to treat me like the child I once was, I will snap. And she has no right to be affronted by my snapping.
Let me back up...
Applying for the fun place known as college. Also being a smart fortune cookie and applying for my masters program at the same time to hopefully make things down the road a lot easier. Thought I could ask my darling, sweet mother for help...
I guess not.
I show her a page, read to her what it says and slowly get more and more pissed as she grabs it from my hand and reads it over, not believing what I had just told her. The bitch made me print off the same application three times because she didn't believe that I had the right one printed off. Then she yells at me for wasting time!
And then, when she tells me to click on something on the computer, I click it, and in doing so, stop writing on the hard copy that I will be mailing in (hopefully on Monday). Then, when she sees that my hard copy is not completely filled out, she blows up at me, telling me "You must not want to go to college, since you aren't trying very hard to finish this application!"
I.loath.this.woman.so.freaking.much...
Nevermind the fact that your daughter is doing her college applications, that she has planned ahead and is even applying to PT school. No. Blow up at her because she accidentally wrote down the wrong information on a stupid peice of paper with random ink-squiggles on it.
*grumbles* This weekend is crap...
[Edit 7:10 pm (same night)]: I know that my handwriting sucks woman! But there is no need to make me feel even worse about myself.
Bitch: Is there any way that you can reprint these papers and write the information a little neater?
Me: *snaps* Mom, I know my handwriting sucks! But I have everything done! So get off my back
Bitch: *looks shocked that I actually have a backbone* *gets pissed at me* Fine, I'll rewrite it then!
Me: Whatever *says under breath* bitch...
Yeah, I have a slight problem with my cussing... Do I care?