Stupid hormones. Stupid psychic mothers. All this love and caring nonsense... My mom is so incredibly wierd. She phoned me five minutes before I got in the door (well, technically, she phoned at the exact minute I got home, not taking into account that I would miss the call for a secret cigerette rendezvous. But she phoned at technically the right time, eerily so. And then, upon calling her back, the call goes like this:

"Hello?"
"Yeah hey mom, it's me....what's up?" (brave face, brave face...don't tell her what happened!)
"I don't know kyla, what's up?" (she says it in such a knowing tone that I'm immediately transfixed in terror, wondering what she knows that I think she shouldn't know, but has somehow found out)
"Uh....why?" (aah! aah!)
"Because, you've been on my mind all day, and that only happens when something's gone wrong."
"Oh."

This happens once a month, always on the exact one day a month that I cry in an inappropriate place over something ridiculous, like my english prof embarrassing me in front of my whole class by stopping his lecture to pull the sleeve of my sweater that my arm was reaching for onto my arm. Kindergarten. The class was in an uproar of laughter. Any other day than today, and I would have laughed hysterically along with them, but I just felt like an even huger degenerate.

"So what's wrong honey?"

DUMP.
  ¶ 11:43 PM