I went to donate blood yesterday. While I was drinking my juice, the man at the check-in table dropped everything he was doing to talk to me. He told me that he knew my mother and that she would be very proud of the young lady I had become. Of what? I thought. He hardly knew me. Proud of me because I was donating blood? I'm not sure if that is really something great enough to deserve of praise.
I'm not sure if it was the brooding over the cause of worthiness for your pride or the whole blood donation thing that made me very tired for the next umty hours.
YOU ARE READING
Break me
ChickLitwhat do you do when you can't stand to look at that page anymore but you can't turn to a new one? color over it and make a new picture.
