I want to go back to the days when swinging way up on the swing was getting high. Those days when all your pain could be fixed witha bandaid and a kiss. Babies still came from the stork and santah clause was real. You're mom was there all day while you laughed and played until you couldn't keep your eyes open. Then she read you a bedtime storry and kissed you goodnight. Quality time didn't mean watching television. You could scream 'leave me alone!' then slam the door, and someone was always on the other side once you cooled down. Boys were dirty and had cooties. These days it seems like I'm always searching for some chemical fix. My cuts and scrapes are deeper then ever before. You can't put a bandaid on all my problems and expect them to dissappear. Somethings never change though, becuase you could still kiss it better. ;D Now we aren't curious about where babies come from, but how to go there and come back without a baby. 'Santa' doesn't visit anymore because he's passed out in his bedroom, drunk. 'Goodnight, sweetie,' became, 'GET YOUR a** TO BED!' There is no screaming 'Leave me alone!' becuse you are always alone and your voice is sore from the other things you've been screaming. Boys are still dirty and they can't keep their eyes off of you. Don't forget hands, too. I don't know, it just seems like I wanted to grow up so badly, and now I hate it.
CondomAtTheCrimeScene · Tue Jan 22, 2008 @ 11:12pm · 1 Comments |