(no subject)
i write things so that i can read them in a few years and feel like a person.
last night we sat at your table with a giant salad and you said, remember the first time we felt like people? and i knew exactly the time you were referring to.
i have been emailing a complete stranger. i am enjoying it immensely. i dont know his name, or want to. and i swear to god, if he asks me where im from, i will cut off his best typing finger.
there is a person here that i do not like as person, that i have never liked as a person. he is neurotic and self-centered and condescending. but today he is so happy that i forget all that and am happy too.
last night, you asked me what i really want to do. and i said i want to be a doctor. you said why? and i said, because i am too smart to do anything else. then i wanted to take it back, even though i meant it.
i have big plans that require me to submit multiple lengthy applications. the sooner i do them the better, but i have schoolwork to accomplish first. but i am becoming anxious that i wont get them done, or that I will do a stellar job on the applications, and not get the things i am applying for, knowing that i put all of my effort into them.
i know that there is a bong beneath my 14-year-old brother's dresser at my father's house. i know that my father is aware of its existence, but has chosen not to make that awareness known to my brother. what i do not know, is whether i will say yes or no if my brother asks me to smoke with him over break.
are these kinds of things interesting to anybody, myself included?
last night we sat at your table with a giant salad and you said, remember the first time we felt like people? and i knew exactly the time you were referring to.
i have been emailing a complete stranger. i am enjoying it immensely. i dont know his name, or want to. and i swear to god, if he asks me where im from, i will cut off his best typing finger.
there is a person here that i do not like as person, that i have never liked as a person. he is neurotic and self-centered and condescending. but today he is so happy that i forget all that and am happy too.
last night, you asked me what i really want to do. and i said i want to be a doctor. you said why? and i said, because i am too smart to do anything else. then i wanted to take it back, even though i meant it.
i have big plans that require me to submit multiple lengthy applications. the sooner i do them the better, but i have schoolwork to accomplish first. but i am becoming anxious that i wont get them done, or that I will do a stellar job on the applications, and not get the things i am applying for, knowing that i put all of my effort into them.
i know that there is a bong beneath my 14-year-old brother's dresser at my father's house. i know that my father is aware of its existence, but has chosen not to make that awareness known to my brother. what i do not know, is whether i will say yes or no if my brother asks me to smoke with him over break.
are these kinds of things interesting to anybody, myself included?