I remember when my mother dropped me off at camp when I was 11 or 12 and she fretted the entire time I was gone because I didn't have anyone to buddy up with when I got there. I think I had a pretty long face and was THISCLOSE to tears when she left. Then ten minutes later made a new BFF. Glad it went well.
Somehow, the disturbed and twisted person I am (and have always been) has ended up to be a sickeningly happy wife, professional, and mother of two.
How can I be true to my dark, goth heart, in the face of this horrible irony?
1 comment:
I remember when my mother dropped me off at camp when I was 11 or 12 and she fretted the entire time I was gone because I didn't have anyone to buddy up with when I got there. I think I had a pretty long face and was THISCLOSE to tears when she left. Then ten minutes later made a new BFF. Glad it went well.
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