Mood: tired
Listening: im not
Watching: V for Vendetta
8:30am.
.
.
.
.
...8:53.FUCK!
im late.
so here i am, scurrying around my own filth and crap, otherwise known as the "bedroom" to the untrained eye, looking for my jeans. why dont i just wear something else? because im stubborn, and i think these jeans make my ass look good. if im late, im at least allowed to have a hot ass.
8:57amim dressed, and huh.. what do you know, these jeans dont make my ass look that good afterall. piece of crappy jeans, you make me look ugly!
9:00ammy eyes feel like theyve been glued together with leftover eyeliner and mascara, the panda look could be in this season.
next thought: food.
9:01amwhy isnt there anything to eat in this house? cereal without milk is just like a cupcake without a cherry on top. UTTER NONSENSE.
9:05amshit shit, bus comes in 2 minutes, socks, i need clean socks! WHERE ARE MY SOCKS!!!
9:07amthe busdriver dtiched me didnt he, [censored]... oh, here it comes.
10:05amso now im on the train, heading to my destination.. has anyone ever noticed the greasy marks on the window on the trains from people leaning their oily faces against it?
11:40amfinally, im here.
11:41amand then i smile, as a grumpy girly this morning is filled with warmth, as i lean over to give him a hug. Somehow my hot ass, clean socks or cereal doesnt matter anymore, because some things are more important.
11:42amit didnt take me 3 hours and 12 minutes to figure that out. i've always known that, but somehow i still like getting mad at public transport for making me late, even though love has no timer. i only want to spend every second with him, because those are the hours, minutes and seconds that do matter.
unpunctually yours: ~ Bonnie
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