Like bad Goth Poetry.
But, as some of you writers know... we don't write for pleasure as much as we write because we have to let it out. And now the thoughts of that entry are backing up, and clogging my head. I apparently found a vein I didn't know was there.
So today, to the anonymous college girl I saw at the Metro station, who ran up and hugged her parents, and they hugged her back and asked her how her trip was, and picked up her luggage and joyously chatted back to an awaiting car... I am sorry I silently hated you. You just don't know how lucky you are to have those people in your life, and I am a just a jealous and angry prick with abandonment issues.