Sometimes I write emails.
Sometimes, those emails fill everything in.
Just thinking of how long it's been since I got to give you the real details of my ever-changing life.
I just finished smoking a joint with our Jamaican next-door neighbor, and I figure that now is as good a time as any to fill you in.
I had mentioned that I moved our of my original apartment, I believe. Well, since my "best friend" and our ridiculously gay "land lord" would have me locked in my room alone, playing Cinderella after school and long shifts at work, I decided that I was better off risking the drug-dealing hippie kids I met at school. (That's an entirely different story, which I'm sure you'll eventually hear.)
I'm now in Westbrook, after a two-week stint in South Portland. Marvelous change, if you like crack-heads and sixteen years in your neighborhood. The roommates are much improved though, and are content with my status as a barely-employed loan kid.
School is a menace, Johnny. Not a day has gone by where I did NOT feel as though I wanted to burn the damn buildings down, simultaneously. However, some of my teachers are easily conned, which is a bonus. (I have my history teacher thinking that I'm a victim of life's misfortunes, when the truth is, I'm a victim of spontaneous laziness and pot-smoking. She is nice though; it's unfortunate to have to con her so.)
I suppose I should release you from this boring-as-fuck letter now.
Do take care, love.
PS, I am no expert,
But I would suggest you put the sarcasm above out of your mind.
this was just me, self-evaluating.