Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's on the tip of my tongue. If I told everyone it really hurt my feelings when they made jokes about me being married, I'm sure they would stop. But then, I wouldn't be the hard ass everyone thinks I am. When your mistakes become other people's jokes, it cuts straight to bone. My aunt had my brother and I over for dinner for our belated birthdays, but it was really a wedding planning dinner. That was all we talked about. Each time I tried, and started, I was interrupted with, "... you could always get married at the park" or "You know, the photographers keep the negatives." I got married in my overalls. The tattoo on my back, the one I'll never tell you the meaning to, left blood all over my white shirt, on my wedding day. I called my brother, and my mom, and that was it. I don't even know where my husband is. My ring was ten dollars, is stuck somewhere in the UK. And this November, it will be four years since I proved to my family that I could live up to their expectations of my rebellion. They're talking about buying a house. I'm trying to save enough money for an apartment I can't afford. They're talking about babies. I've perfected masturbation techniques. I'll tell you the truth: I'm driving myself down until I hit bottom, so I can get back up. Give yourself more credit. You already know me, I'm that transparent. 10:34 p.m. - 2003-06-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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