The Fire Pit
My boyfriend has dug a huge hole in our yard. It is about
the size of a 5 gallon bucket. It is kind of neat to go
outside over the weekend and sit around the fire. I feel
like a hick though.
I think there might be something wrong with me. I
exxagerate things greatly in my own head. I was slightly
ever so slightly peeved at him the other night and breifly
considered throwing myself into the fire pit to get his
attention. I half hazardly fight these notions on a daily
basis. Yet I feel like I am a happy person.
I guess I would never do it, though at the time it seems
like almost a good idea.
When I get in an argument I always envision throwing a
plate, or breaking something belonging to the other person
but never really do it. Does this make me nuts? Does this
make me sane because I never really go through with it?
This could all mean nothing. I just wonder if everyone else
out there is just like me. Or if I am a bit tinged with
madness. My mother is extremely mad, so I worry about these
sorts of things.
Dumb cunt has not called me in a week. What a tease. Oh
well, must move on. These things slide off of me easily. I
still wonder what her deal was though. It was all her and
her only. I guess maybe she thought I did not care.