(no subject)
i live in a hole. my hole. on the fourth floor of a manor.
it has lots of sun.
and one cockroach, that i accidently ripped the leg off of while trying to take him outside, so now i feel bad for him and let him stay there.
i haven't seen him in days, i think he is mad at me.
i wash my dishes right after i use them. which ends up that i only ever use one plate. and one fork, over and over again.
i am going home next week. i am scared of it. scared because bad stuff keep happening while i am gone. and i feel like someone is going to wag a finger at me and say, "you! you ran! and you didn't have to feel any of this! you ran! and when you called you gave your condolences, but you didn't have to feel! you ran away. you left us. you left us alone."
one dead aunt.
one dead girlfriend of a friend.
one grandpa with a tripple heart by-pass.
lots of hurt. no one calls me anymore, and i think it is because they are done with me.
feel it yourself, kristen gleaves. feel your own things. we don't want you to feel ours. we don't want you your condolonces. feel your own pain. we'll feel ours and stop pretending you care.
it has lots of sun.
and one cockroach, that i accidently ripped the leg off of while trying to take him outside, so now i feel bad for him and let him stay there.
i haven't seen him in days, i think he is mad at me.
i wash my dishes right after i use them. which ends up that i only ever use one plate. and one fork, over and over again.
i am going home next week. i am scared of it. scared because bad stuff keep happening while i am gone. and i feel like someone is going to wag a finger at me and say, "you! you ran! and you didn't have to feel any of this! you ran! and when you called you gave your condolences, but you didn't have to feel! you ran away. you left us. you left us alone."
one dead aunt.
one dead girlfriend of a friend.
one grandpa with a tripple heart by-pass.
lots of hurt. no one calls me anymore, and i think it is because they are done with me.
feel it yourself, kristen gleaves. feel your own things. we don't want you to feel ours. we don't want you your condolonces. feel your own pain. we'll feel ours and stop pretending you care.