When I want to feel something, I read my childhood friend's blogs. They write about their many children, how they fill their days with cleaning out extra rooms, how they prepare every fucking feast that is coming up, how little time there is, how lucky they are, what food they make, what cakes they bake and how it didn't turn out well but how good it was anyway. Then they show pictures of their children that all look the same in their giant luxurious houses that also look the same.
Then, at least, I feel something.
3 comments:
I know how you feel.
bekant, speciellt det där om att klaga på något bestyr men det gick ju lyckligt iaf. bla bla och alla ungarna ser likadana ut.
Oj herkas, you did get me going as well...
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