My words to live by

"?Andy! Get out of bed you lazy son of a bitch!'
Dad was calling from downstairs, probably from the kitchen. His dad always addressed him like that no matter where they were. People always reacted when they were in town or at the grocery store, but no one ever said anything. Pathetic huh?.
?Are you up yet?' he shouted from downstairs. ?Don't make me come up there and get you myself!'. That wasn't a threat. I mean, it might sound like a threat to you, but no. It wasn't a threat to Andy. It was just something his dad always said to him. He was used to it, more or less. Sometimes when he didn't get out of bed quick enough, his dad would come upstairs, and you could hear from the sound of his steps that it wasn't going to be pleasant. The door would be opened with force and he would step right up to the bed at the left side of the room, next to the window, and pull the blanket off and hit Andy in the face. With his hand usually, not his fist. Then he would just turn around and go out, slamming the door shut. It had hurt the first ten or so times, but now it was just another thing that happened every now and then. Just a part of the everyday life so to speak."


Där ja.. där har vi början tror jag..

Så säg nåt snällt nu ! Annars blir jag lite ledsen.


Undrar om man ska sova snart kanske.. imorgon måste jag vara duktig.. städa & plugga.
Så det blir ju en hemmadag imorgon med I guess.
Menmen.

Skriver imorgon med.
Hejsålänge.