sick and tired, and tired of being sick

Bored with the packing. Home alone. Listening to my music, that slow stuff, that slow, torturous, emo shit. Ask me why, I don't know. Just thinkin...

It is one hot motherfucker. I spent like an hour at Target just thinkin about how I should do my room. But I only got the airbed and another bin.

Of course. Naturally. Predictable.

All I can say is. I can't wait for that ROAD TRIP. But I know it won't be what I'm expecting, and it won't be like last time, and maybe we won't cry during this trip, maybe we'll laugh more than we cried. But I can't wait. Because I need it. I can't wait to sing songs, play stupid games, BE BARBIES?, drink NRG drinks...be stupid with no excuse, other than it's my vacation bitches, let me act stupid. Sleepovers are always fun.

So here I sit. As always. Staring at the mess in my room until I decide the time is right to pack it up.

I really should stop listening to this music.

And all the while I'm thinkin of next year, and months ago when my dad said

"Make me proud."

Yeah. Okay. Sure. I will. We will.

I guess you never were proud of me before?

yeah. okay. sure.

"make me proud."