April 2013
3 posts
I Guess It's A Party.
I don’t even celebrate Christmas. Let alone the basic holiday. The last memory I have is when I was 16 and my grandmother got me one of those crochet kits. I think I ended up burying it in the back yard along with the realization that “no one gets it.” Don’t worry, I slipped 15 dollars into her purse when she wasn’t looking so that not all of it was a waste.
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You'll Regret It.
The clock on the back wall is broken. The long hand just keeps spinning around like it’s time has been caught by the crayon hands of Tim Burton; I’m distracted. It’s funny how we control our lives by this blown up-quarter-sized thing. Time means so much to us when the clocks work right and when we know how much time is left in this particular conversation..”Should I tell...
It's the Wine.
The migraines are back and I remember telling myself that night that drinking a whole bottle of Mil Piedras was a bad idea. Oh well. I never listen to myself, let alone to anyone else yelling across the room to me “You’ll regret it in the morning!” Little did Charlie know he, too, was going to regret that slippery face of a girl he brought over. Makeup running down her face like...
