I hate the phone. At this point I consider all phone conversations to be direct and personal insults. Unprovoked assaults on my time and interest.
We're actually like sisters, you and I.
Sisters who will never speak. And that's ok!
i actually had a "friend" who called me and read me a poem. That she wrote. It was the most awkward thing ever, and I've had little use for her ever since. I still cant comprehend what in the hell she was thinking! I thought one of us was having a stroke, or that she had dialed the wrong number. Something like 7 years later, and I'm still pissed.
i actually had a "friend" who called me and read me a poem. That she wrote. It was the most awkward thing ever, and I've had little use for her ever since. I still cant comprehend what in the hell she was thinking! I thought one of us was having a stroke, or that she had dialed the wrong number. Something like 7 years later, and I'm still pissed.
No. This is insane.
This was my delusional friend that I've talked about. I'll have to fill you in sometime on her antics.
i actually had a "friend" who called me and read me a poem. That she wrote. It was the most awkward thing ever, and I've had little use for her ever since. I still cant comprehend what in the hell she was thinking! I thought one of us was having a stroke, or that she had dialed the wrong number. Something like 7 years later, and I'm still pissed.
Wait, 7 years later? So this happened in your twenties? Not like just being silly 9 year olds?
Abort friendship. Lol!
She claimed to have written it in her sleep. She just woke up to an amazingly profound poem on her nightstand, in her handwriting. The first one was called, "I've Never Know What it Means to be Loved." I blocked the second one from my memory.
And the the best part was that she apparently called another friend and read it to her first. Only this friend's awkward silence after the poem was because she was CRYING. Moved to actual tears by delusional friend's shitty, sleepwritten poem. They're still close, which is good because I've been trying to cut her loose for like 15 years. She won't go away, and I've pretty much given up.