I love you. You are my favorite sister, but seriously. I would really rather you not respond to my random inside joke text with a phone call telling me how you're out with all of the people I'd love to be out with but can't because I A) don't live in Wichita Falls anymore and B) don't have to extra fundage to go down there every weekend. I would also appreciate it if you would refrain from telling me the stories reinforcing how you're the dangerous, mysterious, and cool sister. I know you are. It's painful enough just being the boring, straight-laced, un-adventurous one, but you letting me know that the guy who has been my go-to crush on guy since fourth grade said that you're "super f*&^ing hot" was almost over the line of what I can reasonably handle. Even if it doesn't seem like it bothers me or matters, it does; on both counts. I'm not the cool one. I'm okay with it most of the time. I'd like it if you didn't rub it in...
*sigh*
-§
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2 comments:
le Sigh, Crier Courtney of Longe.
...and C) 'cause I'm just sprawlin'...
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