or when you can be nothing but drained.
six, seven hours of a party i suppose for a little girl who is my kin and sure the party's good, with a pool and some food and a cake and a family but my brain doesn't enjoy the party it's just running and racing and sprinting until my body aches so i step out of the sun and try to read but there are too many distractions and too many people and sloshing pool water and people wanting to talk to you and there's awkward eye contact and even more awkward conversations that make my skin crawl and uh oh i can't breathe becauseofallthethingsthatmakemyheadspin.
burnt face and arms and shoulders, wretched eye bags that couldn't be bolder, flips on a trampoline that make everything throb with dizzizzizziness.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
