INsPirEd

I turned 18 yesterday.      (Really, I did.)     The stupid jerk who's the center of all my poems hasn't been talking to me for a week.       (We dated, we broke up, we were still best friends, but what can I say? He's the girl in the relationship, the moody whore who gets angry over dumb things, won't talk to me and won't tell me why.)     And it was for something dumb.  We (are friends and the two of us)   Were joking around in art class about stigmatas and he said he was one.. and very sarcastically I remarked "Yea, right, like YOU'RE a STIGMATA!"   He gave me a nasty look (like I had just told him I was sleeping with the taxidermist next door) and hasn't spoken to me since.         So, I promised myself something I should've promised myself a long time ago.       "If he doesn't get over his whiny ass and call me on my birthday, I'll never speak to him again."               And guess what?  I'll never be able to speak to my best friend again.        and maybe just because he's a moody whore and I can't take his shit anymore.        and just maybe, this is an apology to him... because I'm the moody whore who made the decree in the first place.       and maybe just because I intend to follow through with it all this time.what a jerk face. Written February 25th, 2002 © on Feb 25 2002 10:53 AM PST   18 • 0 • 1