Name: Medusa.
What more do they want? I don't owe them shit. They don't own me.
Ok.
They said I could keep the pen. Fine.
Apparently I need to "identify myself".
Gender/Sex: I'm female. And I identify as a female. Just to be clear.
Sexuality: I don't have the time.
Pamphlet is such an old peoples word. Fuck you.
Religion: Not welcome here. To many triggers. It's one of the only rules I listen to. I once heard someone joke that it was a "godly miracle!" I followed a rule.
He's gone now. I got his breakfast cereal for a week.
Age: Doesn't matter in here.
This is so fucked up.
fucked up
A level of status. Typically used in reference to being physically, mentally, morally/ asthetically, performance-wise, or even theoretically damaged in some way. It, in and of itself has many gradient levels, such as 'slightly fucked up', or 'extremely fucked up', but all versions have to do with describing the level of damage. A wonderfully universal root word, to be sure.
Words are important.
Now I'm supposed to write for an actual 20 whole minutes about "how my day has been".
As if I have a life. As if I'm allowed a life.
Everyone talks so loudly
Its completely and wholly unnecessary
Can't wait for tomorrow.
Maybe it will be quieter, tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
Tomorrow
Horror"Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow. You're only a day away." Tomorrow. That's what it says on the cover. I'm not sure why, since I am supposed to write about today. And then tomorrow, I will write about tomorrow. Then the next day. Then the...
