Writing class goes well
But I worry about you.
Teens are so fucked up.
Mental note to self:
Pick a better writing prompt.
Ugh, the stench of angst.
A pound of butter,
Cheerios, milk, poffins,
and conditioner.
No haiku for today, alas. That's my grocery list.
I find myself pleasantly surprised to hear of psychics within our school. I hear there's a student
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