I hate you. Not that you care, of course. I'd like for you to know that you offer me nothing in life and I owe nothing to you. I'd much rather not stay, of course, which is why in twenty-seven months, twenty-nine days and thirty-one minutes I will bid you adieu and hopefully never return for any lengthy period of time. I'm infuriated for you allowing my parents to become infatuated with you and refuse to allow me to move back to my nostalgic security blanket known as Bakersfield. You were never supposed to be permanent and I won't ever allow you to become that. I won't find anything that could possibly make me become attached.
-Unfortunately yours (for now),
Raine Countryman-
