My thoughts while in class at 8am:
- I hate you
- and you
- and you
- Shut the fuck up
- You’re an idiot
- Why am I here?
- Stop talking
- I hate you, too
- You’re annoying
- Shut up
- Why are you talking?
- SHUT
- UP
- and you, I hate you, too
William H. Woodwell Jr.
People think they know you. They think they know how you’re handling a situation. But the truth is no one knows. No one knows what happens after you leave them, when you’re lying in bed or sitting over your breakfast alone and all you want to do is cry or scream. They don’t know what’s going on inside your head—the mind-numbing cocktail of anger and sadness and guilt. This isn’t their fault. They just don’t know. And so they pretend and they say you’re doing great when you’re really not. And this makes everyone feel better. Everybody but you.
This police officer showed up at my apartment and I was in the middle of my movie and I didn't know who he was and he knocks on my door and my new roomie answers it and I hear serious talking and then I trudge down the steps...
...and I’m all “is everything okay?”
And the guy looks up at me and goes, “let me guess, Miss Breeny?”
And I’m all “yes...”
And he goes, “I pulled someone into custody yesterday. He said he knew you. His accomplice claimed the same.” And he paused and goes, “these two gangly guys said that you were the key to some string of murders on campus?”
And he’s completely serious and my roomie looks all pissed.
And I’m like “…what?”
And he goes on to continue and pulls a little note pad out of his pocket and says, “a mister Sam and Dean Winchester. Names sound familiar to you?”
And then the cop and my roomie start busting out laughing.
They’re old "high school" friends and my roomie thought it would be funny to play this practical joke on me.
I'm officially welcomed to America.
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