The minutes that pass while i'm waiting in the truck with you before the bus comes always manage to piss me off. You're either telling me what not to do in order to not piss off my mother, or you tell me straight out that i'm a selfish, spoiled bitch. Then when the giant yellow conversation interupter comes up the hill, you act like there's nothing wrong, you don't act pissed at all, and you tell me to have a good day. It's fake, and it's bullshit. And you wonder why i always slam the truck door the same, walk away from you the same, it's all the same. Childish and lame.
All my frustrations,