Rachel Platten? Pfft, she’s just a gateway drug.
The blog post I planned for today was gonna be pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.
Because I can’t think of anything specific to blog about right now, I’m going to free write.
Last night, in the doctor’s office of all places, my mother and I had another conversation about fictional characters.
If we were in London – or Scotland, for that matter – and I was feeling blah like I am right now, I could simply cast a patronus, eat some chocolate and be all better. But because this isn’t Hogwarts and magic as J.K. Rowling defines it doesn’t exist, I have to make do with what reality gives me.
Fun, graciosa, divertido
These are words for the same thing in which I cannot partake, oh no.
Even though they say all work and no play will make me a dull lass,
I am not allowed to have any sass.
Believe me, I tried the other way, working my ass off,
But all that did was backfire and give me a kiss.
I’m not sure how it started,
But I hate having to be guarded.
I don’t have anything that is my own, except the things that people hate.
I know I can’t wait much longer, or else my passion will be completely destroyed.
And that will just lead to people being annoyed.
But I’m not sure what to do to get out of this depression,
If I don’t have freedom of expression.