21 Jan

This morning I messaged Poet about a thing. It’s a stupid thing. Not even a thing, really. He lectured me with questions, and I don’t know how. I guess he’s expects me to really consider the things I’ve done. Which I do. And I haven’t done anything. But I’m always looking at myself. He’s the same way. And when he does things, I run around flailing my arms warning him to Be Different Or Else. But Poet’s never really wrong. To himself, I mean. And to me, neither, after he gets all poetic and makes everything he’s done wrong a totally necessary learning experience. Just like he did in high school, Poet really frustrated me. And I was tempted this morning to, like, scream about it. Via text. In his face. Via text.

He’ll read this because his name is in the first line, so I’m still kind of screaming at him. At least I waited a whole day to do it. I mean, I’ve thought about this. And I’ve thought about the annoying things he’s said. And I get it. And I’ll learn from them and this, and thanks for being an exasperating conscience, and okay, and everything really is just fine, and let’s not talk about it, and there’s nothing to talk about, like, by the way.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: