Our hamster is squeaking on her wheel. It's 5:08am and I am home from a night of fucking strange parties. I'm not sleepy. I'm no longer drunk. I have to pack in a few hours to go away to Vaggy's my pretend trip to "Twain Harte" aka ROSEVILLE to celebrate her boyfriend Juliana's birthday with his family. I'm a good sister. She's lucky I'm so good to her. But I have to pack. No no, I have to pretend pack. No no, I have to actually pack because I have to pretend to leave when really I'll be at Mikal's hiding my face from our parents so that she can have a weekend with Jooliana. I really should sleep but Winona is running on her goddamn wheel and the squeaking permeates the entire house. But I suppose it's nice to have a nocturnal pet. This way there's one other pulse in this house that's awake apart from me. These hours are my quietest and I'd like to say they're my loneliest, but at the same time, who else would I rather be spending MY quiet hours with? NO ONE. No one but ME (and Winona's squeaking of course). Why? Because I am my own.
Squeak... squeak... squeak...
