An invitation to creep.

Shoutout to the obsessive psychoboyfriend who sat in front of me during Sociology today. Not only did I read massive texts (YOUR phone was at MY eye level) about the drama going on between you and your "baby", I also learned your middle name, address, and Social Security number. I may as well state for the record that I plan on stealing your identity. However, unlike yourself, I will not be frequenting your girlfriend's Facebook page every 4.2 minutes. Just because there's a refresh button doesn't mean you need to utilize it in such a way. Regardless of your OCD tendencies, I truly hope you get that job at Target, and would also like to wish you the best of luck with the "wifey". I really hope she can keep her promise about not talking to any males for the rest of her life, and that the future marriage runs smoothly. I can tell that the two of you already have a solid foundation of trust, backed by the dependency of 160 characters instead of audible words. WINK WINK WINK.

Next time you you plan on making my lecture a social hour, please save yourself the walking time and stay the fuck at home, okay?

Thanks times a milli.

Love Child

Kiley, the African Cichlid from Connecticut, will not die.

I’ve tried narcissistic neglect. I’ve tried serving starvation.
I’ve tried habitat demolition. That’s right - - I destroyed her home.
Or maybe you did, when you stopped visiting us on a regular basis.
Regardless of who is to blame, the scum that has accumulated is far
less offensive than your actions (or lack thereof) the past few months.

Yet Kiley doesn’t let this bother her.

I’m pretty certain I know why. She has my drive.
She is determined to fight for the things she believes in,
no matter how broken or confused those dreams may seem.
She pushes through tough times, grasping onto stockpiled love.
It’s sad because that’s all she has at the moment - - rollover
affection.

Yet Kiley doesn’t let this bother her.

I’m pretty certain I know why. She has your brain.
She swims with that same indecision you displayed,
hesitation and fear marking every movement she makes.
She pushes past tough times, overlooking any probable love.
It’s sad because that’s all she has at the moment - - denial of affection.

Yet Kiley doesn’t let this bother her.

I’m pretty certain I know why. She has our problems.
She is an unfortunate product of our bottled up emotions,
a jumbled mess for an ectotherm to accept and comprehend.
She remembers happy times, when all that ever existed was love.
It’s sad because that’s all she has at the moment - - reminiscent affection.

Kiley, the African Cichlid from Connecticut,
is metaphorically dead.