016. Walking on Broken Glass.


Thank god, allah, the flying spaghetti monster, for my dad’s family. Last night was hell. Today was better. I actually didn’t sleep- I was too busy trying to creep away and cry. There was a mildly funny incident when my cousin woke up, accidentally tripped me, and both of us ended sprawled on the floor. He then held me until I cried myself into a stupor.

This morning, the five of us woke up and played all sorts of pranks on one another. Some involving pillows, airbeds, pepperoni… the good thing about a huge, close-knit family is they always know how to cheer you up.

The drive home was still hell, though. Next to zero visibility, and my dad refused to stop. Tomorrow, we pick up my sister and tell her about Aunt Bobby. I’m singing at the viewing, or maybe it’s the ceremony, I have no clue.

We have a huge chorus concert tomorrow. I’m trying to contact my teacher, but his last name is Smith. His first name is so popular to the point that there are thirty of them. In the immediate area. *headdesk* We need a school directory.

We’re still opening for Faultline (once Sons of Pitches) on the 21st, though. Lawls. This’ll be… fun? Humiliating? One of the two.


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