Cruel Youth- Mr. Watson

She sounds like Amy Winehouse.


Don’t mind me, just going through old Facebook messages for no reason.

Boy get outta my mind and my dreams please! Why do I keep dreaming about you? We don’t even talk anymore. We’re 8,767 km away. Smh.

Yet, there you are. You were in my dream when I was in LA. You were my entire dream last night, and last week you were there again.

Last night was a little different. You were there with your little brother. Except you were older and  a lot more colder. I mostly hung out with your brother.

God looking through my 2012 Facebook posts.. I used caps lock too much. Very excitable child.

It’s 3:30 am.

I took the SAT today. I slayed the English. The math, not so much. I hope I did okay.

I was dressed up in a little black dress tonight, with high heels-walking in the dark trying to get to a birthday party because my Dad would rather eat dinner and let his daughter walk around late at night in a dress than drive her. Thank god E picked me up. I felt really out of place at her party. I’m not close to any of the girls there except for K and C. I dropped my knife and it made a long ringing sound. C and I died a little inside. “Mr. Sir Man: can you please cut my bread?” “Oh I’m full I inhaled a big gust of wind on my way in.” “Wanna split an ice cube?”

It sucks to be the ugly friend sometimes. My skin isn’t the best. I have braces. I’m short. My hair is frizzy. I’m surrounded by my super model friends with their perfect skin, eyes, and hair. It’s an injustice.




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