A Necessary Pickle

It sounds deep, don't it?
It's not, don't worry. This isn't that kind of blog.
See, I like pickles. Some people are critical of the pickle - I, however, am a fan.
One afternoon, life wasn't going well. My mother and I had just been to the doctor, where she (once again) didn't get a diagnosis (still, all we've got is fibromyalgia, which we think I have, too) and I'm fairly certain that was also the day we were going to pick up her stuff after she "quit" working for Castleberry High School in River Oaks, Texas, where she'd taught art for something like seven years, I'd learned absolutely nothing from for something like 2 and a half years, and as a unit, we'd both been screwed over repeatedly.
Anyways, it was an afternoon, and we went to this little deli restaurant (is that redundant?). The people there were bitches and the soup was lukewarm, but I got a pickle wedge with my sandwich and it was just perfect. It was the perfect combination of juicy and crunchy, it was the perfect taste, and it was the perfect size for me at that particular moment.
It was a necessary pickle.
=]

On an introductory note - hi! I'm Cassi. I'm 17. I like Eminem, Batman, and rain.
I don't go to school - homeschooled for now, should be starting at a charter school sometime soon - or have a job - life's too complicated - but I do party like a motherfucker. (Not that that's something I'm proud of, honestly, but I'm pretty responsible - considering - and I do enjoy my life. I'm just a kid!)