I hated my mother.
My whole life I hated her. And her whole adult life she hated me. Or at least that’s what I thought up until about a week ago. 554 more words
According to someone either incredibly clever or incredibly pretentious, ‘the beginning is the most important part’. It therefore follows that I must point out how I do apologise what a load of bloody rubbish this is, I have 2 minutes until I need to post something and am spiralling frantically into some vile rainbow hole of writers’ block where gremlins do lurk and snatch thoughts out of your head as you scurry around in desperate hope that the grey rainbow will mix itself apart to form some kind of coherent ordered thought once more. 23 more words