17. October. 2007.
p a r t 3 o f 3
The cold isn't as bad as it used to be. Well, it's fucking fall after all but I just don't see how it could -- hey, that rhymes.
And it never snows down here. I've never even seen yellow snow before, let alone white snow. Fuck. Puddle jumping! Hop, pop, hip-hop. I actually don't really listen to much music. Maybe a little of The Smiths here and there but... That's about it.
What the fuck am I doing? Starting over. Bullshit. My book's gone. Ruined. Nothing. Oblivion. Lost. Sonny and Oscar made the book. It was "good" because of them and now... And now, I think I'm just fooling myself.
This doesn't even matter. I'm done. I'm done with this shit. No one cares about what I write so why does it even matter? You're right it doesn't. So... we're done here? Never to speak to each other again, right? Okay. Bye.
Wait...
I'm getting a dog.
Okay. That's all. Bye.
YOU ARE READING
In the Days of Chapstick, Gum, and Soda
HumorI might write a book. I don't know. Life happens to get in the way of that sometimes. * * * * * Inspired by @Woowoowriting and her books: The Darlings of Suburbia and Seeking Connections. * * * * * Short Story #319 Hu...
