It's the truth, Ruth:
Washing a car on your own is exceedingly difficult when the soap drys on one half of the car before you can rinse.
He is actually not interested, or worth it, or good at his favourite sport.
Dreams about hiding from terrorists in a treehouse do leave an impression.
I hate dishes.
I break my grandmothers heart because I don't like boys within my race and I am going to leave the country.
Brussel sprouts are good but smell like socks. Socks that Lebron James wears for a week straight.
Slumdog Millionaire deserved every award it recieved and I have a new favourite accent.
Strawberries, so worth buying even when you are broke.
And when I say broke, I don't mean Mommy and Daddy willing to pay off your bills, I mean twenty dollars in your bank account, and your own credit card which you are still paying off.
I found a bottle of gaterade, a baby picture of Sarah and a lot of dust under my bed.
The constant talk about the economy has finally hit me because for the first time when someone asked me what I want to do with my life and I said right plays, I actually felt embarrased rather then indignant when they gave me that pitying look.
Lastly, I am so tired of that look. I am not a child, I love writing and I may not have any idea what the hell I am doing, but honestly, do you?
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