My mind is crowded my hands are withered from washing with soap, with soap, with soap, and cold water.
A too-tight-waist; a cat with too-high-taste; a clock with too-fast-pace; shock at a too-tired-face.
I'm talking to things that tic and toc. I'm reading words but can't get them and cannot grock.
Itchy noses don't hold a candle to the depth and romantic glory of my spinning marbles. When will it stop? round-and-round it goes! Who knows. It's all a little convoluted to say the most and really that's all I can say about it.
I'll probably head to school. I'll probably pass out on the pavement and make a pretty bloody mess of my pretty bloody (swear word) head. So, even if my eyelids are begging begging to drop and stay there, I can ignore them long enough to get recognition of my messed-up situation through tragic accident. Won't I be pleased when those three will pay attention to my anxiety?
Even though you have long coveted an iPad, you might not know what to do with it because the technology is so new.
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Please, Katherine, please contact me. Mama
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