oh, joy

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TOUCHING MY BREAKFAST.

Posted Sunday, January 16, 2011 // 0 comments (+)

#346.
Do you ever get that feeling. When you're up too early on a day you need to do something? Like, when you know you've gotta get up early to get ready. But not that early. So you set your alarm for an hour before departure time and you roll over and try to go back to sleep.
You toss. You turn. You're cold, so you put over your covers. You're too hot, so you rip them off. The cycle continues until your alarm goes off, your mind wanders how you passed all that time just tossing, and you make your first attempt to get out of bed.

You're too tired. You get back under your welcoming covers and think to yourself, 'Oh, it's okay, ten minutes lost to get ready is okay, I'll just skip some things,' You lie there contentedly. You stare at the ceilings, the walls, anything blank, anything that reflects your state of mind. This passes another thirty minutes.

You realise you're late. You realise by the time you get ready for whatever it is you were going to do, you'll be late. You lie there anyway. Until it's five minutes before you have to go. You tell yourself, 'Fuck it.' and you roll over and somehow manage to sleep.

I dunno where I'm going with this. But granny, I am nearly fifteen, I am rather sure I am capable of making my own breakfast without you poking my food with your hands that I'm pretty sure you have not washed. Fuck, there goes my appetite.

Mmm yes auntie just pointed out that I was grumpy. Well, no fuck.
Also, I had a dream where you went ahead and confessed your love for me, which I suspect you have, and it was oh so long winded, and in the end I ended up rejecting you anyway, who knows why, even after years of being so infatuated with the thought of being with you, oh I guess it was just a phase that needed something to end it; this post is too long.