as you grow older your knowledge becomes inversely proportional to your assurity that you know everything

nothing, i mean nothing is as bad as this. except maybe for the stuff that led to it.

her pony tail jauntily swung in time to her step. in the awful sweltering heat she was an oasis of cool pink and white, sun blocked and lip glossed, shading eyes behind yummily gaudy Dior. Every single man turned and gaped as the vision passed, and, more discreetly, so did the women.

bravely, she sat outside in the wall of humidity that was May heat. under one tiny umbrella for shelter.

alone. finally. and greatful for it.

bastard.