Wassup

God I get frustrated reading some of the drivel we spew onto this blog and into our journal. I honestly can’t relate to most of it and reading all the ‘poor me’ bullshit makes me roll my eyes and want to beg everyone to shut up.

Nobody cares, particularly me.

But I’m trying to be a nicer person. I’m trying to empathise or at least pretend to care. Sort of. We’re so different, like massively different. I hate that they’re part of me. I’m not saying I hate all of them or anything so don’t get shirty if you like em, I’m just saying I’d rather live my own life without their crap and emotional baggage tainting it. But apparently God didn’t have enough bodies for us so alas I am stuck.

So what have you lot been up to?

I had a look at this book of Kate’s today, good thing she didn’t try and publish it yet, it’s a pile of shit. Sounds like it was written by a nun with a pole up her ass. They’re going to need old Scribe to work a Hell of a lot of magic to turn it into anything actually worth reading.

Anyway, this was open on the phone so I thought I’d write in it too. Wassup people? What do you actually want to hear us babble about? Do you want all the pretty poem shit, all the trauma stories, woe is me cry baby crap, the trials and tribulations of dealing with the aftermath of being knocked up four times or would you rather hear tales like the time we accidentally ended up at a swingers party? Oh now that was a funny night, fark.

Just putting the question out there because I tell them they’re boring as batshit but they keep on the same old thought train. Also I sense I’m about to be blamed for a lot of crap I may or may not have done and so I have nothing to lose.

M, if you’re reading this, you and I are going to talk hun. But you probably won’t like what I have to say and heads up, we aren’t all in need of saving, some of us are quite fine just the way we are.

Life’s a game people, play hard or die trying.

B

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