Again? Really?

Parents. Rather, parENT.

Flipping stupid. *cries some more*

I love learning about other people's problems. Tell me yours, I'll tell you mine!

Seriously. I'm spilling over.

I gave myself a bracelet. It's silver, with a barge and a dangling heart next to it.

It was five dollars. And made in 2001. Cut me some slack.

It's there to remind me of home. But more, to remind me that I am alone. No comforting hug from my mom is going to change anything. It's placing a bandage over a paper cut.

A really painfully deep paper cut.

Sooner or later you will heal. You may never touch paper again for the fear of getting sliced, but still.

I am afraid of the piece of paper. But it's inevitable, and no matter how hard I try, i will get cut again.

Paper never apologizes for cutting you. And though it seems wrong, sometimes I apologize to the paper.

My dad is a piece of paper.


-
Why did the chicken cross the road?
I DON'T BLEEPING CARE.