I’ve been having pseudo “panic attacks” all evening. Why does it have to be September so soon? What did I do to deserve this? What obscene crime do I commit each August that warrants the retaliatory “quality time with the abusive mother” September that always follows? The knowledge of my impending doom just hit me today, and I cracked. I’ve calmed down with the assistance of some sleep-inducing chemicals (see title), but I’m afraid of what’s coming.
Mm, vanilla milk
Be a teenage runaway!
It’s Monday afternoon and I came back a day ago from my grandmother’s house, which is a long, long way from my own. But why would I have gone to my grandmother’s house in the first place? Ah. Well, that’s a long story, and one you may or may not wish to hear. But the fact that I did, and the fact that I was away from home for two days, means that (for today at least) I am getting my own way. Which is what every teenager wants. Read on…
When the going gets tough…
Sometimes, I think it’s important to recognise that you’ve been defeated. You can make excuses to yourself all you like, but in the end you have to realise that it’s a lost cause. When a situation has degenerated to this point, you can cut your losses and move on, or you can fight to the death when you don’t stand a chance. What Hillary Clinton and I have in common is our unwarranted devotion to option #2. Clinton gave up in her goal today. Perhaps I need to follow her example.
Of course, unlike Hillary Clinton, my obstinance wasn’t caused by unbridled ambition. God forbid I should want to rule a country! No, my only aim was to salvage a friendship on the rocks. I probably shouldn’t have bothered; the source of the conflict is that we have absolutely nothing in common, and somehow failed to notice for one and a half years. Read on…