The senior play is happening in a matter of hours. I am scared, but excited, because in my rational mind the audience will love it and not notice all the mistakes that will be made. In my director's mind, everyone is pissing me off because they aren't on top of their shit when I've told them to call me if they need help and they could have and should have done that by now. Tomorrow will be what it will be.
Dear You,
Fighting sucks. We're not good at it. But I'm not wrong. Neither are you, as you like to think. That is our problem. I'm allowed to be angry. You are blinded by your own stupidity (I have another term for it, but I'll save that for something else) Why are we so good and bad together all at once?
Love, Me
That was a poem, or so I like to think.
Tomorrow is my last real day of school. I'll be going back cause I'm a nerd and would like some alone time with my teachers, they've been real good to me. I'm DONE. It's hitting me. I need to be done. Seven years is seven too many.
Making the house music playlist was fun, I'm proud of it.
I'm going to bed.
1 comment:
hi alexandra
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