
I used to live down the street from my maternal grandmother (not to be confused with my step-grandmother; this was when I was living near back when she was still alive; she died of a heart attack in mid 2014 9 months after we moved here), and she smoked a lot. Like, whenever she took us down the street to her portable home, which I remember being buried behind a bunch of trees, I’d always smell that lingering cigarette smell.
Every time my dad decides to have a conversation with me about my academic stuff, I always want the conversation to end as soon as possible, but at least in my perspective, it drags on for an eternity.
I was unaware that there was actually some drama with Lizzy.
Stupid, pointless drama strikes again.