It hurt so much talking to M.I don't think its going to hit me till...oh,I don't know...another couple of years.When people stop gossiping about 'he said,she said'.But its sad when bad things happen to good people.Its even sadder when you know those good people,when they're closer to you than blood.When they have curly hair and chinese eyes and gold lumps for hearts.
Its going to be an interesting winter.Full of gladiolas and white chocolate,tuberoses and parties and many,many people.I don't know how to fit in my fiercely independant,go/do-whatever-wherever-whenever self into peoples' lives.I'm not sure how they'll react,and I've been told its bad manners to not care of what they think.Believe you me,I'm all for bad manners,but its the pristine side of me (from my mother) that creates this unruly paradox in my being.Bad manners,good,okay,Good manners,even better.So even though my suitcases are packed with mangy clothes and delicate underwear,I will know when to act nice,how and where.My mother likes to think otherwise,she knows I'd rather let my hair down and run butt naked to promote 'freedom',but its not true.Sure,I believe in all that 1960's hippie-peace-bong crap,but I'm a fairly okay actress.I can go all *fluorescent-smiley* to my aunt and be all like 'pass the booze' to F.I'd like to be really drama-queenish and call it Multiple Personality Disorder,but I won't.
This isn't a post about trying to find out who I am,everyone's on that mission 24/7/365,so don't even start the bullshit about 'ohhh poo cliche' cuz its not.Its fact.Very much like guys need porn.
It would be nice to explain to my daughter why I named her Aurora.'Something to do with magnetic fields and both of the Earth's poles,darling.He would gladly explain it better to you if I knew where he was.Probably on a yacht in the Mediterranean with those blonde bimbos of his'.
You think you know,but you have noooo idea*