mythopoeics

[Things had not been going well for Eve. Her mother was sick, hospitalized for problems with her heart (it started with a heart attack, but it quickly became apparent that the damage was more extensive than the doctors originally thought) and had been fading fast. During the time period when emotional responses made odd things happen (in her case small static pulses leaping from her hands, shocking people and things) Eve had ended up getting kicked out of the hospital because of the way the machines were responding to her. It was while she was barred from visiting her mother that things took a turn for the worse, and after a long battle, she soon received word that her mother had asked to see a priest.

Her mother was dying, and much as Eve could appear strong for her around others, inside she was a mess.]

It's always difficult, and even a little strange, when we have to say goodbye to someone important to us for the last time. It's so unfair, how is it if I die I come back, but my mother... She lived a good, long life, and I just know she'll be reunited with my father. Requiescat in pace, mom.

Some of you will be thrilled to know I got an A on my paper. My teacher said it was well-researched and made him feel like he was actually there, so thank you brilliant sources. He also seemed to appreciate the banana that my phone turned into when he nearly caught me texting in class. I don't feel at all bad that I watched him eat it just because I was curious as to how it would taste. Would it have a slightly metallic aftertaste? The world may never know.

By the way uncle, I need you to take me by the Verizon store tomorrow so I can get a new one, since without my phone I just might succumb to a terrible depression that could only be cured by getting me an adorable puppy. I am nothing if not persistent.

I really would like to know why stuff keeps turning into bananas, or in one rare case my flash cards for algebra turned into playing cards, but whatever. So long as it doesn't bring down my GPA.

What in the fucking hell is wrong with me? I have not had a proper goddamn smoke all goddamn day, because every fucking time I go to light the fucking thing, I'm holding a pigeon or a snake or some shit. I tried to smoke this morning, went to light the damn thing, and bam. Fucking baby snake.

Yes I'm fucking mad.

I'm making it a point to run over the next asshole that walks out in front of my car because they were too fucking distracted by their cellphones to watch where they're going.

It's not my job to look out for your dumb ass.

On that note. Hi. I'm Jason. I might be making hood ornaments out of half the population of the entire Lower East Side. Just so you know.

I was told today that I should go suck a bag of dicks. I was curious to know what sort of dicks would be in that bag. Would they be healthy dicks, or diseased ones? A man should know what he's facing.

The name is Gavin, by the by.