Mine was the opposite: Mine was the opposite problem: my mother suspected I would try to linger in my parents' home well after I was able to become self-supporting.
in truth... i love reading: in truth... i love reading your content... yet it is so full of meaninglessness, that i wish to gouge my eyes out at the prospect of enjoying it so recklessly {do you smell a fault?!?!} i dance like no one that has danced before me ((fuckACHILLES) and all). ya dig? myNIGG... LOLolo
I should like to think I am: I should like to think I am not a fool (although I know some might dispute this), but this is Poetry, you are writing. Its authenticity is obvious, and no deceit enters into the designation.