| Current mood: | upset |
| Current music: | style over substance -- southbound |
[ Sitting in the breakfast nook, she glances around the deserted kitchen downstairs before glancing out the large windows lining the wall to her right. It's night; dark sky, beautiful stars, and looking at the sight is almost enough to make her smile. She missed being back in France while at Dover, but her inevitable return only creates the irony for her entry. ]
Accueillir de retour.
My French is slightly rusty. I returned early Saturday morning, when I was supposed to be graduating from Dover after four years of being trapped there, but I saw no reason to stay if I wasn't going to be making my final walk.
My parents were not impressed with the idea of me repeating my senior year, but it's not as if I can blame them for it -- you have four or five children, you usher them through their years, and then when you get to the last one, they fuck up and there's absolutely nothing you can do to save them.
I've gotten lecture after lecture about what a failure I am... precisely what I was expecting out of them. They've decided to avoid me at all costs; great, fine, perfect. I'll do the same.
I think I'll be happy to return to Dover now.
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