30 fucking minutes. I hate that phrase now. I’m swearing and I’m not even gonna bother censoring it anymore, because, FUCK, I’ve had it.
Fine, you get home early. Fine, you have to watch your lil cousins playing with the fireworks cos it’s dangerous. Fine, you can’t be arsed to bring the phone out because I want to see little, home launchable fireworks. Fine, you say you’ll be 30 minutes before we can Skype.
1 hour later, still fine, you’re just hanging out with family. TWO FUCKING HOURS, meh but fine. I finally give up and ask you, you were fucking playing mahjong and couldn’t be arsed to drop me a line. STILL FINE.
30 more mins? Doubtful after your track record of keeping your word, but fine.
I go to shower and come back to see “I’m tired, I’m going to sleep.”
FUCK YOU! SERIOUSLY? LIKE I WASN’T TIRED FOR LIKE. OH ONLY THE PAST FUCKING HOUR, WAITING FOR YOU TO FUCKING COME ON AND TALK FOR A BIT.
SERIOUSLY. SCREW YOU.
