Maturity.
ma·tu·ri·ty (mə-ty&oobreve;r'ĭ-tē, -t&oobreve;r'-, -ch&oobreve;r'-)
n.
Not you.
Just because you type a paragraph or two into your livejournal, because you have no one else to express your feelings to while sipping on your starbucks, listening to outdated "intellectual" music and smoking a bowl, does not mean you are mature. Text messaging three paragraphs worth of intended hurtful words towards someone, just because they won't buy you cigarettes is also not mature. Smoking cigarettes is not mature. How far will you go, until you turn into a speck of dust? Until you are in fact the epitome of nothingness? If you had ever cared deeply for me, you would have never said such callous things. You, are not that much fun of a person to hang out with, either. At least we can agree on that. Although, I am sure you think nothing is fun in this world, unless it involves ganja. And at age seventeen, it is sad when you can't have fun without drugs. I have not lost any friends. Ryan and I have bonded more lately, and I sincerely want to thank-you for that. Him and I have concluded I am in fact queen. Of the world? Nay. Of the universe? Absolutely. But I hope he, as well as everyone around me, can stand my complaining of the sky being blue. I need to get some help with that.
Elle, if you think you can make my life miserable, I would love to see it. You cannot count 5 people on your hand who take your word for a thing. Nor can you count your real friends, either. You do not have only child syndrome. That is a ridiculous excuse that I hope Ryan is even ashamed of diagnosing you with. You have overdramatic-fake-pothead syndrome. Hm. I don't know if Zoloft will fix that. Possibly try? The point of this entry is to share with you that I honestly have not even thought of you today or even yesterday. I do not care we aren't "friends" anymore.
And I am certainly thankful I did not get permanent ink on my body representing our friendship.
Because our friendship has probably been as traumatic as the Holocaust.
n.
- The state or quality of being fully grown or developed.
Not you.
Just because you type a paragraph or two into your livejournal, because you have no one else to express your feelings to while sipping on your starbucks, listening to outdated "intellectual" music and smoking a bowl, does not mean you are mature. Text messaging three paragraphs worth of intended hurtful words towards someone, just because they won't buy you cigarettes is also not mature. Smoking cigarettes is not mature. How far will you go, until you turn into a speck of dust? Until you are in fact the epitome of nothingness? If you had ever cared deeply for me, you would have never said such callous things. You, are not that much fun of a person to hang out with, either. At least we can agree on that. Although, I am sure you think nothing is fun in this world, unless it involves ganja. And at age seventeen, it is sad when you can't have fun without drugs. I have not lost any friends. Ryan and I have bonded more lately, and I sincerely want to thank-you for that. Him and I have concluded I am in fact queen. Of the world? Nay. Of the universe? Absolutely. But I hope he, as well as everyone around me, can stand my complaining of the sky being blue. I need to get some help with that.
Elle, if you think you can make my life miserable, I would love to see it. You cannot count 5 people on your hand who take your word for a thing. Nor can you count your real friends, either. You do not have only child syndrome. That is a ridiculous excuse that I hope Ryan is even ashamed of diagnosing you with. You have overdramatic-fake-pothead syndrome. Hm. I don't know if Zoloft will fix that. Possibly try? The point of this entry is to share with you that I honestly have not even thought of you today or even yesterday. I do not care we aren't "friends" anymore.
And I am certainly thankful I did not get permanent ink on my body representing our friendship.
Because our friendship has probably been as traumatic as the Holocaust.