So today at work I had to put one of the babies to sleep. The one thats notorious for screaming bloody murder whenever anyone tries to give him a nap. Coincidentally, this baby is also my favorite. So I’m there getting ready to force this baby to sleep and he’s crying and screaming and fidgeting and he does this funny little body kick and I bust out laughing at him. He stops crying and I’m trying to contain my laughter and he starts to smile and stops crying long enough for me to get the little sucker to fall asleep. I feel so much love for this (basically) stranger’s baby, I can’t imagine what being a mother would feel like. It may be cliché but I can’t wait to have my own baby. Too bad its gonna be a while.
And here I go falling head first into something I know will hurt me. Its already giving me a dull pain in my chest. But nothing wonderful comes easily and without its own pitfalls.
Personally, I want to see more about the victims. What their names were, who they were, what they dreamed about, what they aspired to. I wanna hear about the legacy their memory will bring to the people they touched. I don’t want to hear about the pathetic excuse of a “man” that cut their time short. No. Let him die a nobody. Let him be as nameless and forgotten as his grave. Its what he deserves.
R.I.P. you beautiful babes of Isla Vista.
Its too late to do anything about the way I feel. I dont know if I should have done things differently.
tired of all of the fake friends and backstabbers. the immaturity never ends. can’t wait for 8th gradee <3
people are starting to stare at me at the student union because i laughed so hard at this.