There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how.
We had a huuuuge Wonderwall sing-a-long last night at Marcus'. It was the best thing ever. It lasted for about an hour, because we wouldn't stop singing the same song.
Damn, that song is amazing.
Also, as a result from this weekend; my left leg is all bruised [seriously bruised], my right leg is all scratched and cut up; my right elbow is slightly bruised [or it looks like someone gave me two hickies on my elbow], the palm of my left hand is all raw, and both of my hands have minor cuts on them. I remember doing it all, too. Not so sure about the bruises on my elbow and the random cuts on my hands, but otherwise, I know what happened that caused everything else.
From a reader's POV, it looks like I have a problem, I'm sure. But I'm completely functional on the weekdays. I promise. I still maintain a 3.6 GPA at school and my family still talks to me . . . it's cool. I just need to stop wiping out on the weekends. At least I'm not Brett and pass out randomly and wake up with dragons and clowns all over my body. And genitalia.
Maddy is fine. Everything will heal in a few weeks. I'm just glad that's all that happened.
And my dad is having surgery this Thursday. I was told not to go to Detroit for it because I have school to attend, but that's not so important in this situation . . . I guess it's pretty serious, too. The doctors don't know anything about chances . . . no one bother me on Thursday.
I'm sure he'll be fine; he's a trooper. He's been dealing with this shit for as long as I can remember and he's still kicking. But my dad's not so sure . . . and I don't think I'm taking this seriously enough because I know he can get past this . . . he has many times. I just think he wants to be done with all of this . . . and honestly, I don't blame him. Almost 20 years of dealing with this shit . . . I'm sure it's sickening.
I need to finish homework.
Damn, that song is amazing.
Also, as a result from this weekend; my left leg is all bruised [seriously bruised], my right leg is all scratched and cut up; my right elbow is slightly bruised [or it looks like someone gave me two hickies on my elbow], the palm of my left hand is all raw, and both of my hands have minor cuts on them. I remember doing it all, too. Not so sure about the bruises on my elbow and the random cuts on my hands, but otherwise, I know what happened that caused everything else.
From a reader's POV, it looks like I have a problem, I'm sure. But I'm completely functional on the weekdays. I promise. I still maintain a 3.6 GPA at school and my family still talks to me . . . it's cool. I just need to stop wiping out on the weekends. At least I'm not Brett and pass out randomly and wake up with dragons and clowns all over my body. And genitalia.
Maddy is fine. Everything will heal in a few weeks. I'm just glad that's all that happened.
And my dad is having surgery this Thursday. I was told not to go to Detroit for it because I have school to attend, but that's not so important in this situation . . . I guess it's pretty serious, too. The doctors don't know anything about chances . . . no one bother me on Thursday.
I'm sure he'll be fine; he's a trooper. He's been dealing with this shit for as long as I can remember and he's still kicking. But my dad's not so sure . . . and I don't think I'm taking this seriously enough because I know he can get past this . . . he has many times. I just think he wants to be done with all of this . . . and honestly, I don't blame him. Almost 20 years of dealing with this shit . . . I'm sure it's sickening.
I need to finish homework.