(no subject)
May. 6th, 2002 01:16 pmI don't own much pink, sparkly clothing, but what I do own, I like to take care of. It makes me feel pretty and it makes me happy.
So. I walk past my sister's room and see something that looks VERY familiar on the floor. It's one of my pink shirts, the long sleeved one with the low cleavage and the sparkles. I love that shirt. I've worn it like twice and I treat it like gold.
It fucking smells like cigarette smoke and it's got a stain on the front of it. That little bitch. I swear to God I want to break her fucking head open.
I REALLY HATE LIVING HERE.
So. I walk past my sister's room and see something that looks VERY familiar on the floor. It's one of my pink shirts, the long sleeved one with the low cleavage and the sparkles. I love that shirt. I've worn it like twice and I treat it like gold.
It fucking smells like cigarette smoke and it's got a stain on the front of it. That little bitch. I swear to God I want to break her fucking head open.
I REALLY HATE LIVING HERE.

