Thank god I can bike here. I would not want to ask my mom to drive me. She'd freak out if she knew where I'm going. But she freak out even more if she knew how many times a week I come here. She freaks out enough when I tell her I want to go on a bike ride. Ever since the happening, which is what I call seeing as I can't see how it was an accident, she gets jumpy whenever I simply walk into a different room. Trust me if I had the guts to kill myself it would have happened long ago. She tries to give me some reason to live by reading me all the good news of the day and I mean all of the good news. Aunt Carrol decided to name her baby Eva? Nope! Already tried it. Some congressman got out of the hospital? Nope! Politics suck a**! And for her final attempt, she tries for the thousandth time to remind me that my beloved godmother is visiting for Christmas. Okay, First off, um duh! She comes every year. And second, Christmas is like 9 months away! Or are you waiting for my letter to Santa as well? Ah , here it is, there it is. That godforsaken beauty of a rock is so unforgiving that I want to smash, but I know I can't for two reasons. One, um, yeah I do not want any broken fingers right now if you please. And two, he's there....
bloodie Hart Community Member 
|
|
