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It's from a song.
Yeah, anyway, hello, dear journal. It's me again. No, I do not usually refer to pixels as if they were capable of intellegent thought. I don't usually refer to people that way, either.
AGH! I just want to die. Take the steak knife downstairs, or use the drawstring on the window blinds- it'll work this time, I swear. I'll cut myself so bad this time, I won't have any blood left in me. No, I'll drown myself..... I always loved water.
I'm having a random bipolar emo moment, but it's not a moment.
The thing is, I can't talk to ANYONE.
Sarah'll go completely ballistic. Jake's got enough problems. Tom's.... okay, but.... it's ackward. Noah doesn't care, Nate's not serious enough, Austin can't stand me being sad, so he's much like Sarah....(and probably reading this, damnit), Colin's not very serious, either, I don't know Patrica very well, Merrick can be an arse, Hanna I don't ever get to talk to and she's not serious, Caleb wouldn't answer, Belluzzi's not ever serious, Sasha would pretend to be a psychologist then go ADHD and start a completely new topic, and Kaylee got DRUNK the other night. Who does that leave? My parents?!
Ugh. Fat. Lazy, stupid, moronic, annoying, ugly, huge, incompetent, retarded, dumb, over-dramatic, and whiney.
That's me.
Over and out.
 Figmented Imagination · Sun Nov 16, 2008 @ 04:14am · 2 Comments |
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