I love you doll
I'm so glad I've crawled outta my hole
I am a bit of a lost soul
At the mo
You're my dude
Which is so goooooood
My poem writing is atrocious
But just know now I'm closer to bliss
(Who puts 'anyway' in a poem? Keats? No, maybe a garden gnome.)
We're a team
So if ever you need to scream
You know who to talk to, Fleam.
Fleam is your new name.
This rhyming thing is a hard game.
Anyway, moving right along.
I'm going to a party on Saturday. Yay, a birthday party, woo hoo. The pressure is on. It would seem that half of my old school will be there. Most of my school falls into that high-society, trophy wife kind of category - not bad women really, but many of them I lost touch with after school. Pressure. What the hell am I going to wear?? Do I go casual and cos a ruckus with my hippie behaviour? Or do I plaster myself in this season's bling? (Loving that.) I might as well start collaborating my outfits now. Oooh this is going to be SO much fun. (One girl whose coming has enormous cankles. Don't stare, Laurian, don't stare, don't stare, don't stare.)