[Written on TextEdit, due to technical difficulties]
It's raining. No, really raining. Like, Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse raining, complete with Earth-shaking thunder and sky-scorching lightning.
367 pages.
Get my phone back tomorrow. Imagine I'll spend some time making apology calls/texts.
There was a tick on me earlier. With its head in me, drinking my sweet, sweet blood. My aunt pulled it off with tweezers, and I did not vomit, faint, or run screaming up the street. I am a hero, of sorts.
Huge family screaming crisis. Everyone yelling, my cousin crying in her room, and me trying unsuccessfully to play mediator. My method of negotiation is this: I'm right, you're wrong, accept my glory, and apologize for all your many, many failures. Needless to say, it didn't go over well. Even with me on my best behavior.
I just think it sucks majorly that a fourteen year old girl was made to cry on her birthday. Especially when the girl in question is not a bitch, slut, or any of the other words I tend to associate with young woman that age.
So that made me sad, and angry, and filled me with a feeling of abject helplessness. Because in this case, I really am right. And if everyone would just listen to me, things would actually make sense for a change. Once in a while, I do know what I'm talking about.
The internet is out. I thought I was just going to pass out in bed, despite the early hour [it's 10:17 PM], but my stomach hurts from way too much rich food, and my mind is in shambles. It's a stupid fight, and in the big scheme of things probably not a big deal. But the thing parents, and adults, and even people my age often forget, is that when you're fourteen, these things are life and death. You can't put them into perspective because you have no real perspective. This is it.
It's probably a good idea to remember that. These things matter. Stupid things can hurt. We are the ones who break our families to pieces.
Anyway. I kind of want to write, but I don't want to turn on the light. And I'm worried my middle cousin, Cee, caught me smoking, and I'll have to lie about it.
I'm a terrible liar.
I wish I could record the sound of the rain. Like an onslaught of bullets. But it really doesn't sound like anything but really heavy rain.
- LV
It's raining. No, really raining. Like, Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse raining, complete with Earth-shaking thunder and sky-scorching lightning.
367 pages.
Get my phone back tomorrow. Imagine I'll spend some time making apology calls/texts.
There was a tick on me earlier. With its head in me, drinking my sweet, sweet blood. My aunt pulled it off with tweezers, and I did not vomit, faint, or run screaming up the street. I am a hero, of sorts.
Huge family screaming crisis. Everyone yelling, my cousin crying in her room, and me trying unsuccessfully to play mediator. My method of negotiation is this: I'm right, you're wrong, accept my glory, and apologize for all your many, many failures. Needless to say, it didn't go over well. Even with me on my best behavior.
I just think it sucks majorly that a fourteen year old girl was made to cry on her birthday. Especially when the girl in question is not a bitch, slut, or any of the other words I tend to associate with young woman that age.
So that made me sad, and angry, and filled me with a feeling of abject helplessness. Because in this case, I really am right. And if everyone would just listen to me, things would actually make sense for a change. Once in a while, I do know what I'm talking about.
The internet is out. I thought I was just going to pass out in bed, despite the early hour [it's 10:17 PM], but my stomach hurts from way too much rich food, and my mind is in shambles. It's a stupid fight, and in the big scheme of things probably not a big deal. But the thing parents, and adults, and even people my age often forget, is that when you're fourteen, these things are life and death. You can't put them into perspective because you have no real perspective. This is it.
It's probably a good idea to remember that. These things matter. Stupid things can hurt. We are the ones who break our families to pieces.
Anyway. I kind of want to write, but I don't want to turn on the light. And I'm worried my middle cousin, Cee, caught me smoking, and I'll have to lie about it.
I'm a terrible liar.
I wish I could record the sound of the rain. Like an onslaught of bullets. But it really doesn't sound like anything but really heavy rain.
- LV
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