A pathetic creature whose happiness is dependent on a tiny little box made of plastic and metal. A pitiful creature who jumps at the slightest sound or vibration, who spasms at the faintest flicker of a light, who checks constantly if the little box is working, turned on, or mad at her. A poor creature who can't seem to focus on studying, or anything for the matter, because her eyes keep sneaking over to where she's placed the little box to see if it has changed at all in the last minute-and-a-half. A miserable creature who finally decides to put the tiny box away in her bag but gives in after a mere 54 seconds and pulls the little box out again with a stifled sob. A heartbreaking creature who despises anyone around her who has a little box that calls out to it's owner because it makes her mistake the call for her own little box. A little creature who goes from hating and cursing the birthparents of such a box to loving it and kissing it in only a matter of seconds.
Poor little enigma-afflicted dear. Relax. Chill out. Listen to the voice of reason. You're fine. I'm fine. We're all fine.
Maggie Carpenter: [while frantically fighting with her veil] Who MAKES these things?!Peggy: Calm down. The veil is not attacking you.
4 comments:
This is not _____. ( remember that mean text from Allison?)
Hahahaaaaa. Terrible.
I wish I could say I didn't know how that feels...
So....There's only one reason we females obsessively check our phones. Who's the dude? Spill.
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