In light of recent events and factual revelling, I may be forced to pursue a swifter and more decisive form of suicide.
Don't really fucking care what everyone else says; it's really all about control.
Almost an entire year is by far too long of a time for anything.
You can just go and die. Take that however you want to, bitch.
I refuse to go get help any time soon.
Options: Go seek help (hafuckingha), go tell someone about it (another laughable idea), continue as usual, continue with more fervor, or go find that nice shiny thing I like to keep somewhere in my room.
My grandma is doing nothing to alleviate my situation.
My sister is better at acting happy than I am.
My mother's declining condition irritates me.
My father needs enuciation lessons.
My reflection needs to fucking die. I think I'll take down all the mirrors in my room tonight.
Alternate Option: break out the sketchbook... although I won't be able to bring it to school for some time if that happens.
Screw all this. When the hell is my bus getting here?
. . . . . posted:||4:04 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .