I do not have a problem. Well, maybe just a little one. But look, I mean, is it really my fault that I fell prey to the genius, captivating style in which Haley writes? No. No it isn't. Technically, you could blame my alleged addiction on her. After all, if it weren't for her skill I'm sure there would be no reason for worry...not that there's any now, despite what Haley says.
I'm just incredibly fond of her writing, and feel honored to pair my up beside hers in our roleplays. And yet, Haley does not seem to share the same fond feelings. Not that she doesn't enjoy our roleplaying, but she is more reluctant to continue each day, despite my begging. It is terribly unfortunate.
Every day after school, I come home, thrust open my laptop and boot up my email, hoping to discover what has happened in the current tale we are weaving. But alas, in the 50 emails held in my inbox, none are from Haley. Annoyed, i open AIM and decisively ask a question about homework, careful to conceal my ulterior motive for commencing the conversation. After some discussion about whatever we were supposed to read for APUSH, or what pages to do for Spanish, I nonchalantly ask, "So, could you reply to the roleplay?"
When I do this, Haley gives me a long explanation as to why she could not join me in the wondrous adventure that evening, complaining that she had too much homework or some lame excuse like that. I begin to feel desperate. "BUT HALEY!!!!!!!!!!" I type frantically, "IT'LL TAKE POINT FIVE SECONDS!!!!!!!! PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE AKLSDFJASKLDFJKLASDFJASDKLFJLSJK!!!!!"
"...you know this makes me not want to roleplay with you," Haley replies.
I fall out of my chair and crumble to the floor in a quivering pool of unfulfilled dreams.
And yet, she says she can "live with the guilt." And then suggests therapy.
I do not need therapy. I need the magical language which spills from my best friends imagination, to make mine look less inadequate.
How can you say I have a problem?
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