My mother says I look like one of the check-out chicks at Coles. But the way she says it I get a feeling she just wants me to get a job as a check-out chick at Coles more than anything else. I mean, I've been to Coles stacks of times. I go there and buy smokes every other day and if I look like any of those poor fuck-faced bitches then mum mustn't love me much. If I ever give birth to a girl I won't tell her she looks like one of an assortment of ugly bitches who all work together in the one miserable shit place.
I want to go down there now just to see if I'm wrong. I hate feeling like that. I remember a morning in summer when I felt something invisible and evil just happy that I was wrong. I was so scared. I just ate all day until I was sick and my eyes were stinging from playstation.
My head is still itchy. I know a girl, (Hannah), she had lice really badly. She got into lots of trouble and just forgot to do anything other than fuck boys. And get lice. I haven't got lice. I barely fuck boys.
I'm going to have a shower and wash my hair anyway.