8.30am on a Saturday morning. I’m sitting in front of my window, had my breakfast, even washed my hair. What the actual fuck. Right now I’m just being extra in the house like I ruined someone else’s harmonious family life, like I don’t belong here. I guess there are really big parts that I missed out. I would really like to lie in bed and listen to songs and maybe tumblr and even blog and dwell in my own sadness but I can’t, which makes things worse because everybody expects me to be fucking grieving but nobody is giving me the time to absorb all this shit.
Dad is leaving. I’m dead.
Can you believe that it’s only 9.45am. I feel like I’ve been up for hours. Time please fly. Flap your fucking wings. Anyway I downloaded this awesomeshit app and I’m just like singing to myself for the past hour.
You know, I don’t really want to live. I’m a terrible person I’m a terrible person I’m a terrible person.
I can spend my life reading life confessions.
My wounds are not healing. I actually considered taking pictures of them but then that would be like so emo and shit and I am not emo so yeah I’ll just wait. It’s so gross, I swear. I look fucking abused with wounds all over my limbs and nobody said a thing. I love you you love me we’re a happy family. It’s 11.35am. I’m not looking forward to lunch. I want to hide in my room forever. I swear my bro is still sleeping like a pig. Life is unfair.
And apparently I got A1 for emath. For fucking once sia. I mean, I’m probably still lowest in class cause the paper was so easy but still.
So uh, I feel like shit and uh, brb dying.