It was just another week of sleepovers where we yelled at each other "Don't call him!" and then called him, made plans to be better people..never eat again..and then woke up the next morning to gossip over chips and momos. We architectured a world that would be safer for women, even if it had to be unisexed through disturbing ways like gradually eliminating all the XY zygotes or some equally vague method.
What's wrong with "Lipstick Jungle"?- I ask the world. Especially since I secretly want to walk down the streets of New York in Manolo Blahnik with a sense of purpose.
Mom says-"You watch too much TV"...I can't help it! - there are too many people out there living my life. Power Yoga every morning, saving lives, living scandalously in Manhattan, attending proms in fancy clothes and running over a mystery person (90210:how I HATE season finales!)-I cry out, over a glass of mango shake and a packet of kurkure You watch too much tv.
"Don't call him!" I send out frantic text messages and she calls him.
Make this world a better place, we silently pray. (I recall the Lord's prayer in the swimming pool-showing off my rote-learing skills and then my handstands.)
Make me a better person, I plead over facebook chats and judge myself for including a diet as one of the prerequisites.
bad roommate
4 years ago
2 comments:
awesome, like i write stuff to remember what things were like, and this is so spot on i dont have to cos youve already written it.
write more.
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