I'm gonna pull you in close, gonna wrap you up tight. Gonna play with the braids that you came in here with tonight.

Let's not even get started on how tired I am right now. I hate the world so much right now and I don't know how to explain this pure hatred. Is it pure hatred or is it just stress? I want to believe it is stress, but my inability to tolerate anyone lately wants to make me believe that it is hate. 


I'll do a quick rundown of my discontent.

• I have no desire to speak to Rob anymore.
• I want to cut off all social networking sites to people of my school.
• I never want to go home anymore, I just want to stay in school.
• I wanted to shatter my hand when I got home today. 
• If someone tries to talk to me, I want to smack them in the face. 
• I just want to sit in my closet and write in the dark. I realize that finding the paper could be kind of problematic.
• Males just recently are starting to piss me off right now.
• PMSPMSPMS. Fuck everything and fuck being a girl.
• People ask me for answers in Spanish. Fed up.
• I can't focus anymore.
• I'm overworking myself and I can't stop.

I have given no time to myself anymore. Starcraft doesn't really count as a break because it requires so much strategy. Of course, I tell myself that killing Protoss and Zerg will actually make me feel better prior to opening the game, but, sometimes I end up more frustrated than I was. 

Listen to '11th Dimension' by Julian Casablancas (I love the name Julian). I wish I could embody this entire song, but I can't. I've never been that carefree. I mean, "I just nod, I've never been so good at shaking at hands." completely explains how I act toward people. If they strike me as interesting, I might actually talk to you and voila, a friendship is made (Tracy and Jenna). 

What I want to know is why I can't stop working myself. Why do I keep pumping out writing that is shit? Why do all my poems just suck? Why can I never finish a God damn story? 

Please excuse me while I just start screaming into a wall. 

Dear fat kid who crashed into me but still apologized:

Really, it is appreciated that you have manners and all, but, I still wanted to slam my fist into your face. 

Dear Angela:

Open your mouth another fucking time and I will stick my stinking sock in it.

Dear Brenna: 

You want to be friends? Great. I don't anymore.

Dear Jessica B.: 

Lay off on the make-up. You'd probably be a lot prettier without that gross stuff on your face, and that's saying something.

Dear Catherine S.: 

God, you are the definition of class A bitch. 

I just had a really bad day today, that's all. I feel like Holden Caulfield, honestly. The whole world is a bunch of phonies and nothing is innocent anymore. The purity of childhood is gone and adulthood is definitely like running off a cliff into danger. Hopefully, I won't end up in an asylum in California.

Day 09: How you hope your future will be.

Away from these people and this town I hate. 

RIP Uncle Pete. I may not have known you that well, but you'll be missed.