Wait, what.

Whatever.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower tried too hard.

There. I said it. That’s been on my chest since junior high. Just like breasts. (Puberty, you guys.)

Whenever I start to hum, which turns out to occur only when I’m the computer with no music playing, it always, ALWAYS turns into Auld Lang Sin. And it’s always a little (a lot) off pitch, and slightly slow with lots of pauses where pauses shouldn’t occur and… It’s just the definition of sad when you’re sitting at home, on the internet, humming Auld Lang Sin in late August.

So apparently here’s what my friend and I do after smoking a bowl:

1. Have a dance party
2. Watch a documentary on the remaining survivors from the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings
3. Watch Intervention.

Only one of those things are good ideas.

OHHHH.

DISCUSSED AND DISGUST ARE HOMONYMS. I didn’t realize this until just now?

Once my elementary school teacher was teaching us about homonyms and wanted us to make up separate sentences for them to help distinguish. I, apparently a cunt even back then, taught my fellow students “Which witch is which?”

My teacher forced me to write new sentences. Whatever.

I mean, I don’t WANT to admit this, okay, but it’s so weird that I feel like I must.

Last night. Last night I had a dream. A nightmare, rather. A nightmare wherein my father told me calmly that he was sleeping with his brother. My uncle. To make it worse, it is the uncle that I fought with daily when he lived here. I mean, if my dad is going to participate in incest, at least do it with an uncle I enjoy, right? Wait. No. Anyway, in the dream I am devastated. Devastated. I threaten to tell my mom and then my dad starts screaming at me and the screaming is so loud and violent that it pushes me against a wall and my skin starts to… disintegrate? Fall off?

SO THEN, wakes up, feelings of disgust and hating Freud, and then.

And then.

And then my mother tells the family that last night she had a dream my brother got my sister pregnant and my sister was 5 years old.