Lana feels

And a partridge in a pear tree. I don't want to think about this. About my mother figure doing something really really wrong. About the Man I can't look at without this twisting in the pit of my stomach, who is for some peculiar reason nice to me. Says hi to me. Seems to be asking me for something, be it approval or help or getting my best friend to behave herself. I don't want to think about it. I don't want to think about the bi-polarity that is Mandy. I don't want to think about my loss of focus. I don't want to deal with this. I want to go snowboarding.