February 2012
I want to throw shit. Just scream and yell until I go hoarse, then cry until I have nothing left. I want to let it all out. To write fifteen angry letters each to all the people who hate me. To break something beautiful. To commit spiritual suicide and dance with the devil.
I feel horrible, and I want the whole fucking world to know.
Right now, drowning in the Styx doesn’t seem so bad.
And then you get that feeling that all the people who’d care are asleep.
Then you realize that’s just your body’s way of saying, “Go the fuck to sleep. Seriously.”
Finding a place where I can just speak my mind without being criticized heavily has become increasingly difficult. I guess I like it better here because it feels like people are reading this when I know good and well they’re not. It’s simple, really. I’m not a photoblog of hot guys that you’ll drool over. I’m not a collection of the prettiest natural landscapes you...
I have no idea why I have to constantly check my social networks to see if someone has messaged me. It’s sad.
That feeling of “I don’t know what I did” when it mixes with “I love her so much.”
That feeling you get when the popular kids hate you.
Or
That feeling you get when everyone else would rather skip you over for someone better.