i either read for 4 hours straight or dont read for 4 months there is no in between
What’s the point of anything. All I am is this massive bitch trying so hard not to snap at everyone else for talking to me or asking me something.
I don’t know why I leave bed, why I’m allowed to have a phone, why I’m allowed to eat. I should die a slow and painful death because that’s what I deserve. I’m sick of being me, being lonely, depressed and everything else. It’s never ending, it’s just a fucking cycle and the bad isn’t worth wading through to get to the good, because there’s a minute of good and the rest of a lifetime of the nightmare I live in.
don’t tell me to calm down I’ll throw a fucking desk at your face
my mom said i couldn’t have a cookie cake for my birthday so i stole all of her towels
“This is the chemical formula for love:
dopamine, seratonin, oxytocin.
It can be easily manufactured in a lab, but overdosing on any of them can cause schizophrenia, extreme paranoia, and insanity.
Let that sink in.”
i’m really good at making plans and then not wanting to do them when the time comes
"too vague" writes my English teacher on my essay
kind of like the instructions you gave us you piece of shit