Grannies.

Home. A small house on a corner of the street is my home. My street is home to around 30 old grannies and we kinda just ignore each other. We are all in our little bubble of comfort I guess. Sometimes, it can be kinda nice that I live on a street of the elderly because I don’t have to hear parties and have to go through the embarrassment of having a schoolfriend live right next to you and knows that your parents are deadly embarrassing.

But these grannies, they kinda are really unfriendly and don’t really smile. I thought I was meant to be the stereotypical grumpy teenager. They seem to be rebelling against that.

Maybe it’s because I’m a teenager and they are scared of the youth but I think I don’t look that terrfying. And I always force a smile.

Ah, it’s my smile.

My smile is the worst smile ever.

It’s freaky and it kinda makes sense that nobody really smiles back.

It’s probably the most sarcastic smile as well.

None of their cats like me either. Whenever I go near one, they either attack me or hiss at me. It’s scary.

I’m so tired and I need to go to sleep. But I’ll definitely write a blog post tomorrow because I feel like I need to explain some things.

I don’t know. 

Hideaway Girl xxx

 

 

 

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