Elsa needs to get out.

I ended my break yesterday.

I woke up at 6am and just decided it was time to get back to reality. I hate that feeling. When you are an adult, you have to make that choice. I hate choices. I hate being responsible. I hate thinking for the future. I just like living in the present. BUT I had to leave because my entire future and life as we know it depended on me getting my ass up and driving four hours back up to school.

I stayed out in the woods all break. With the father of my child’s parents.

I have a strange situation with baby daddy.

He is not in me or my son’s life. But his parents are. They have sorta adopted to me as their own. They are the type of parents I always wanted. They have picked up the slack of my parents. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I am not gonna dog them out on the Interweb, but baby daddy’s parents rule. She made my stay very warm and helped me with Mister Daren. She treats me like a person. I honestly didn’t want to leave. But I had to. In the cold. In the rain. That became eventual sleet. And onto a slight flurry. (my use of fragments will never cease) It doesn’t get that cold where I live. I live in the South where you can wear flip flops all year round. Now the North part of the state gets slightly colder. I had to drive in the sleet crap but I did well. I followed one of the Ten Commandments given by Moses.

Don’t drive like a fucking idiot.

And you will be fine. Like…why do you speed when it is storming? Or weave through cars? Or change lanes on grated bridges? While it is iced over…and think that you won’t have to slam on your brakes at some point since you are being wreckless. I understand that the Fast and the Furious movies are cool. I mean I get that. Wrecking cars and having another one instantly. Never having to call Statefarm. Hanging out with drug dealers. Dating Latina women. Defying physics with Vin Diesel. Whatever I get it. BUT you are not Brian O’Connor, never will be. Snorry.

So I finally make it to the town in which I live. I am seriously four minutes and twenty three seconds away from my home…and then POP! This onomatopoeia makes me feel like a lame but I am gonna roll with it regardless. So this was the POP!

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I am assuming after four hours in 3o degree weather, my window had it. Who knows? What I do know, is that I hate being a broke college student who has to repair a damn window. I hate surprise expenses. Fortunately, the Safelite man on the phone did care about me and not commission and he gave me a $50 discount on this repair. Of course I don’t wanna marry him. Girls never go for the nice guys. Duh.

Well. I go Monday to fix the darn thing. Blah.

Normally when it gets this cold I get happy because I can use “and we rockin’ furs like it’s snowing in the South” ya know, some good ol’ Drake. But not this time. “…the snow, with all my woes…”

I don’t even like Drake anymore. Not because I don’t wanna be basic, cause I totally am…he just isn’t the Drake I knew when I was 18 years old. When I was 18, I was pretty much married. I was boring. My life was boring. Then I got pregnant. Then I got fat. Then I got fregnant. And mean. And lame. And more fat. But I jammed to Drake from 18 to 23. When I became single again at 21, all of his songs became relevant. They aren’t relevant when you are tied down and fat…but when you are newly single, losing weight, and starting to go out again. Drake was pretty much rapping my life. And don’t even get me started on The Weeknd.

Now don’t think I am proud that Drake and The Weeknd outlined my life so well. Or at least a portion of my life. I became single at the worst time. A time where we cower behind our phones and men wait for women to make the first move because of convenience or they are just scared. Men, it’s not completely your fault. We have emasculated you. We really have. With our rights and independence and our aggressive behavior. We are no longer dainty, quiet, subservient women. I mean some of us are. But those get cheated on real quick. Shit, all of us get cheated on at some point, but the DQS women more often than not.

But Drake helped me through the pain of finding out all of this the hard way. He made me feel like this is what is supposed to happen to all young women trying to find love in this generation. But now grunts and stuff and repeats strange mantras that I don’t even understand. Like an inside joke that I am not allowed to know unless I join forces with the Illuminati or something.

In other news, I cleaned my house. It was in desperate need. (taken with that fresh S7, I still plan on reviewing)

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I need to get off my ass before George sees me not doing anything. I’ll talk about George another time.

Tataaaaa.

 

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