cwillow

Mad Poet's Society
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2001-08-28 18:37:49 (UTC)

the weekend.

I was supposed to go visit my blood mother this week. I took
a week off from school, Thursday to Wednsday, and there it
was Saturday night and I was back in my apartment listening
to Darion and Stephanie boink downstairs. YUCK. My heart
hurts enough without having to listen to that shit. My
poptart is old and stale, but I have to eat something. Since
I miscarried the baby, I just haven't felt like eating
anything. Mom said that it was my own fault that I lost the
baby, so you can see why I came back early. Got drunk
Thursday, passed out around 4 am from all the alcohol I'd
comsumed. My writer's block seems to be easing, but I think
it's more like that dutch kid and his finger in the duck
story. It'll flood soon. Everyone seems to like what has
been coming out. You should see my neck. It's hella bruised.
I think someone did it while I was drunk, cause I don't
remember. You know, ever since the baby died and my
relaitonship started falling apart, I've been getting drunk
more often. . I mean, as I write this, I've got a tumbler of
scotch right next to me, and this seems to be becoming an
unfortunate trend. I miss Susie (aka MOMS), so much. I miss
our long, uncomplicated chats. She loves me as much or more
than the woman who gave birth to me does. It's wierd, you
know? I have a feeling that if I'd gone to merry aulde
England for a week, the cops would NOT have been a vital
part of my stay. Yeah, you read it right. Cops. Police.
Bobbies. Showed up at Friday when my mother was with the guy
she is currently cheating on my stepfather with. (Bitch
huh) More later.


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