The One With Another Runaway
'Ve no idea how it moulded itself into this. Escape routes made of half-lies and forced illnesses are a norm now. What is it that makes it so unbearable?
Maybe it's the being happy like a cheerleader thing. Or the pretending you want to talk to the person you're talking to but really you're just doing as you're expected to. Or maybe it's the looking over your shoulder and another pair of eyes meet yours and she gives you a lopsided smile. You lopsided-smile back. And you both look away.
She hates it too.
It's weird how she's never in my train of thoughts whenever i think about my christmas list or birthday list or the who-i'm-inviting-to-my-funeral list. Yet she's always been there, despite not being able to relate three quarts of the time.
Ah well. Wait till puberty hits.
Friday = no work.
Weekend = DIC.
Monday = SPM's over.
To the boardmembers, i'm gonna send you guys a list of stuff you've to bring k. I'm gonna go mope now. I don't know where my mom is. And i'm hungry. G'bye.
DIC '06
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