here it goes again
So after a whole week of excitement good and bad, hanging out with Michelle and Kevin and my parents, crying on shoulders, inhaling chocolate and screaming at cars, I'm heading off tomorrow for my final three weeks of work at Coneheads ever.
Ever.
Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents, but that love does not extend to a desire to work so far away from home at such a demanding job. As soon as September hits, I'm sending out resumés to as many places as I can, so long as I don't have to deal with food or angry, rushing people who can't find the campsites, don't have anything but their Mastercard and take their rage out on cashiers at ice cream parlors.
As most of you have likely figured out by now, summer has been little else but stressful for me. Between my fading fondness for ice cream, stupidity with boys and maybe a girl or two, friends leaving for far-off lives and beloved pet dying just a year after the other had... I've shed tears over that and on more than one occassion over something silly or unimportant simply because I was tired and irate and had an aching urge to go home. It's been a very emotional time for a girl who's been told has difficulty expressing herself.
It hasn't been all bad, is what I'd like to think, but aren't I allowed to think it has, after a point?
I'm okay, but that doesn't mean I'm not sad or heartbroken. I don't know how to explain it.
Three more weeks...
Ever.
Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents, but that love does not extend to a desire to work so far away from home at such a demanding job. As soon as September hits, I'm sending out resumés to as many places as I can, so long as I don't have to deal with food or angry, rushing people who can't find the campsites, don't have anything but their Mastercard and take their rage out on cashiers at ice cream parlors.
As most of you have likely figured out by now, summer has been little else but stressful for me. Between my fading fondness for ice cream, stupidity with boys and maybe a girl or two, friends leaving for far-off lives and beloved pet dying just a year after the other had... I've shed tears over that and on more than one occassion over something silly or unimportant simply because I was tired and irate and had an aching urge to go home. It's been a very emotional time for a girl who's been told has difficulty expressing herself.
It hasn't been all bad, is what I'd like to think, but aren't I allowed to think it has, after a point?
I'm okay, but that doesn't mean I'm not sad or heartbroken. I don't know how to explain it.
Three more weeks...