Paper Planes by MIAThe parentals make me feel as though I am crazy, and really, I am. Despite being the victim of my own insanity, I still want my parents approval. I only denied that to myself for a brief moment, years ago.
I thought I was above pining for their approval, but no one is. No one is above pining for approval, period. The audience from whom you seek your approval may be different from the next person's, but the fact remains that you want to be accepted, you and all your bullshit.
So, to the idiots that think I don't know that I want my parents' approval, shut up. I know. Christina and I discussed this last night on my super dope phone and it kind of pissed me off. I don't understand how that is a reason for spilling all my business. But, such is life.
And on the subject of life, I still haven't been able to write that letter to my Old Lady. I have outlines and notes, but nothing cohesive. I just feel like nothing I write is good enough, clear enough, genuine enough, calculated enough, gentle enough to counteract the stupidity of another author. F. man, f. So with each wasted page, I sit and practice making paper planes, throw them around the room and pretend I am on them going to different vacation spots.
Brittany laughs at me and Christina fusses me out via text. No one else could control me like these heffahs. The truth hurts and they pack a punch, but they are right and all our personalities are too strong to back down, so a compromise is always made, which is good. I fix my life, and they get to keep me in theirs.
No one on the corner has swagger like us.
(MIA has been awesome for the past 4 years and I'm upset everyone else is picking up on me and Ravi's girl, because we loved her first, quiet as it's kept. Please believe me.)
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