When I was in the seventh grade, there was this obnoxious guy sitting next to me in sixth period US History. And I can't remember for the life of me what his name or face was, but I remember he was obnoxious. And familiar.
And once, I pretended to spit at his feet in class, when he was teasing me. Because you know, I always thought spitting at someone was a huge insult. And I didn't actually spit, but I've always been really good at pretending, you know?
Anyway, he reacted like a girl, actually squealed and shouted loudly that I spat at him.
Fucking pussy.
And I got moved to the back of the row. And I don't have any memories of that class after that, so I think I moved away right after that.
And I don't know why I'm thinking about this, but something about him is just so familiar.
He teased me a lot.
Alright, everyone teased me a lot.
But he was different, I think. Sort of reminds me
Do you ever lose the motivation to say or write something, mid-sentence?
I'm so tired. And I have to get up early tomorrow, too.
Fuuuuuuck. I don't want to, but I sort of do.
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