I’m Not Your Mommy, So Stop Calling Me That
One side of the conversation
Look kid, I’m not your mommy. I’m a grouchy college student trying to forget about my pain by enjoying the beauty of this rundown park.
Yes, it is a Thursday morning.
No, I don’t have a class to go to. Well technically I do, but I don’t really feel like going today.
Because my professor doesn’t keep attendance and his class makes me want to smash my head into a beaker. Why do I even need to take Chemistry, Grayson? I’m an English major, the class is useless. Then again, I’m an English major, so all my classes are useless.
DUDE STOP! I’m not your mommy! I don’t know why you keep asking me that. Last week in my freaking chemistry class, we had an exam that I totally forgot about. It was worth 30% of my grade! WHY WAS IT WORTH 30% OF MY GRADE!?!? I’m not upset that I failed it, I’m upset that since I failed, I’m going to have to retake the class next semester! LIFE SUCKS!
Ohhhhh, you're looking for your mommy? Geez, speak up next time. Yeah, I don’t know what she looks like so I can’t help you bud. I swear I got eight hours of sleep last night but I’m still exhausted. Is this what it’s like to grow old and die? Do I just get more and more tired every day until I eventually never wake up?
