My parents called me the other day. They had just had dinner with the parents of my best friend in middle school.
"She's really tall. She's 5'10". You should get in touch with her. How tall are you?" That was my mom.
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The next morning the one homeless guy -- the one who hates our hands--, smelling strongly of tea tree and peppermint, told himself over and over again, "eating untainted food does not make me crazy" while he poured his coffee.
So often I feel like my life is not mine. Everything seems so unreal and so different than I imagined. It's fun to watch, but it feels like I'm just spectating. Thirty is only ten years away, and I'll sleep for one-third of that. In fact, I'm really only thirteen and two-thirds because I've slept for six and one-third years of my life. Oh boy.
My things are on the floor. My dog has a flower on her eye when she plays in the plumbago.