I fucking hate holidays. Mom always has both sides of the family over to my parents' house, so a bashmillion cousins and all the aunts and uncles. Fucking yay. Fucking yay. I swear, fucking yay. I'm going to crawl into the basement to the gaming room, set up my XBox, and just stay hidden for the night. I'll come up and get half a plateful of scraps since I'll be fighting off 24 other people for food, maybe take a slice of pie, and head back down. Chances are good I'll end up getting to babysit too. After all, since I don't sit around talking about horses and pickups, there's obviously something wrong with me. Since I'm 24 and not married, there's obviously something wrong with me. Since I worry about what happens outside of Walker, IA and Coggon, IA . . . well, I'm obviously just a nerd or a loser or a dork or whatever. I don't care. I don't fit with these people and I'm fucking proud of that.
I don't hate them. I don't really dislike them. I just don't fit in with them. A black sheep, maybe.
I don't hate them. I don't really dislike them. I just don't fit in with them. A black sheep, maybe.