Saturday, September 3, 2011

To dear Anna, Meagan and Brenton.

Although I won't tell it to your face, I am so fucking pissed off at the lot of you right now. If it was all going to be so fucking hard why did we come in the first place? Why am I the one that has to tiptoe around and keep all of you from having your little breakdowns but how I'm feeling and what I want to do is completely disregarded? Why did we come to Adelaide to party and then sit at home on a Saturday night? Why didn't we just drive home tonight instead of spending an extra $200 on a hotel room? We left the show at 9.30, we could be in Penola by now, and you'd all be getting your lovely nights sleep in your beds at home ready for tomorrow, when you have to start work at FIVE IN THE EVENING. Instead you've all gone and whinged about how tired you are and how you've got no money, after you went and spent a couple of hundred at the show, and gone to bed.

What a fucking lovely evening out this has been.

...I get that some aspects of your lives suck, I do. I spend all my time being understanding, and mediating, and helping through your problems. But seriously, harden the fuck up.

Your friend, Sara.