Yesterday was just strange. I got up at seven to get myself ready for work. (Read: Drink enough coffee so I won't run people off the road.) It was a blissfully short day at work which was immediately followed by a lenthy session and my grandparents house. I suppose this wouldn't be hitting me so hard if they hadn't been the ones to raise me. Or the fact that my biological mother, who detests me, was there as well, making it impossible to express how I felt openly. When I left there I went straight to my father's and ate my first meal for the day. I LOVE his belgian waffles. The two of us skipped over to HomeDepot and picked out paints for his kitchen. When I finally got home it was only to fall asleep watching The Best Little Whore House in Texas. Makes for strange dreams of lingerie clad singing dancers.
I'm still not really FEELING. I know the emotions are there, but it's as if I'm too exhausted to open the door for them.
I'm still not really FEELING. I know the emotions are there, but it's as if I'm too exhausted to open the door for them.
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas is the second movie I remember seeing. My parents took me to see it, thrice.