(no subject)
I have no idea what the fuck is going on.
Maybe it's just a phase..
Maybe, it will pass soon enough-
Maybe I am being absolutely ridiculous..
So, I realize it is pouring outside..I ran out the door real quick to retrieve something from the garage, then found myself locked out.
Not only from the house, but from the porch as well.
That's when the frustration took form.
I got so angry. So God-damn angry, and dissapointed, and lonely- I brought a fist down onto that God-damn door that locked me out. And left me out in the rain.
And I slid down the door-frame and cried. Very hard. And, if you knew anything of me, you'd know that I am not fond of the act. So, I sat on my back-steps and sobbed for a good while, and, to be frank, I had forgotten what it felt like until then.
I've been reminded on why I don't wish to cry much.
After that little episode, I stumbled down the stairs, soaking wet, and contemplated what to do. I peered into the windows of every car on our property, but, alas, no luck. Immediately, I ran down the drive-way and thought of heading towards the D'Eramos, but it hit me that they were gone. So, I trudged back up to the house, and the Landry's seemed like a good safe haven, until my face started contorting again, and, to be frank, I felt ashamed that I was crying. I was ashamed and angry; so I continuously beat my fist down on the door handle, until it succumbed; and I broke that damn little lock. I walked onto the porch, found the house-key in its "hidden" spot, unlocked the door, and sat at the kitchen table for a while, where I attempted to stop crying before I went up into my room to change clothes.
This new dining table is too tall..And you have no idea.
Maybe it's just a phase..
Maybe, it will pass soon enough-
Maybe I am being absolutely ridiculous..
So, I realize it is pouring outside..I ran out the door real quick to retrieve something from the garage, then found myself locked out.
Not only from the house, but from the porch as well.
That's when the frustration took form.
I got so angry. So God-damn angry, and dissapointed, and lonely- I brought a fist down onto that God-damn door that locked me out. And left me out in the rain.
And I slid down the door-frame and cried. Very hard. And, if you knew anything of me, you'd know that I am not fond of the act. So, I sat on my back-steps and sobbed for a good while, and, to be frank, I had forgotten what it felt like until then.
I've been reminded on why I don't wish to cry much.
After that little episode, I stumbled down the stairs, soaking wet, and contemplated what to do. I peered into the windows of every car on our property, but, alas, no luck. Immediately, I ran down the drive-way and thought of heading towards the D'Eramos, but it hit me that they were gone. So, I trudged back up to the house, and the Landry's seemed like a good safe haven, until my face started contorting again, and, to be frank, I felt ashamed that I was crying. I was ashamed and angry; so I continuously beat my fist down on the door handle, until it succumbed; and I broke that damn little lock. I walked onto the porch, found the house-key in its "hidden" spot, unlocked the door, and sat at the kitchen table for a while, where I attempted to stop crying before I went up into my room to change clothes.
This new dining table is too tall..And you have no idea.