I don’t know. I’m writing in here again. This is like, my hobby. Poetry and blogging are hobbies.
Maybe I just need to taste other cultures.
Maybe I’m too American.
I always hate on America.
Maybe I’m the one who is too American…
Mom’s making me a fish sandwich, because I don’t make my own food.
It’s down to actions now.
And explaining every little thing, I guess.
What’s the explanation but stalkers, though?
How do people know?
I haven’t had. Any. Water today. At all.
Mom’s going to eat leftover sushi.
I wrote some good poetry last night.
Or was it two nights ago.
I only had two beers today.
I stopped after that.
I’m not having anymore.
I hope I don’t have a stomach ache tomorrow.
I hope I can sleep tonight.