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Are you there, god? it's me winnie.

I'm sick.
I feel it festering behind my nose and in my throat.
who knows.
I'm saying no, because I want to.
But, it's definitely something that's got me feeling a little unhappy.

I'm around little kids 24/7, and I've been in doctor's offices, enclosed air-conditioned spaces for long periods of time, and in un-sanitized libraries the past few days. not to mention, the white-haired monster has been sneezing up a storm, so who knows what I have.

who cares, huh?


I sold a couple beanies this weekend. so that's a happy face to put across my hanabata face.

i think I"m getting older, or at least, a little more mature. today, that old-white-closeted idiot got me really mad, and I told him to his face that he was being rude, which of course he snapped back with his falsies, but, instead of, let's say: staying in town, and coming home after the loser crashed out on the couch, I instead, just helped him put his things away (making him feel, I think, even more useless than he did when he first woke up in the morning)
and...I even tried to spark a conversation with his retarded-ass after a long ride home in silence.

after all, He can't help the fact that he's older than the sun and is literally dumber than a household rat. I think he's sitting outside and crying.

good. :)

I realize, you can't win every battle, especially when you're not fighting with someone on the same level. And, really...what it comes down to is...he can't help the fact that he's white.

he can try all he likes, in fact, he's been trying his whole life to be someone else with his fake "cultural sensitivity", but, he can't get away with saying rude and insensitive things because all in all, he's just another colonialist white man.

it's the sin of color that they threw upon the "coloreds" and now it's biting them in the ass. sorry old whitey, your karma is a bitch named winnie.

he can sit there and keep crying outside until his cheeks have permanent grooves under his fucking waterfalls. I don't give a fuck anymore.


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