I hate how you’re one of my best friends.
And you’re such a fucking whore.
And you’re so selfish.
And you’re just so infuriating.
Until we hangout alone and everything is great.
This is why if I get into University of the Arts, I’m not going to college with you.
+Sneaking into the attic at three in the morning with you while everyone is asleep
and having deep life talks until six thirty in the morning and then passing out on the same couch was really, really crazy awesome.
It was just…quiet. That calm, comfortable, content feeling was just ugh. so nice. Whispering about our lives and ambitions and fears and worries and everything under the sun.
Last night was a really good fucking night.
+I really hate my friend sometimes.
Stop being so spiteful, I don’t need another Austyn in my life.
+Just kill me. Just fucking kill me.
If this is my life then I don’t wanna live it anymore.
I’m so tired. I’m so drained.
I literally don’t have it inside me to do this anymore.
+
And this is why I can’t stand living in my house, or technically, not my house anymore. I’m so sick of being thrown out for no reason, I’m not a fucking child anymore. You’re my mom and this is how you treat me.
+She promised she wouldn’t drink today.
But what else can I expect to come home to. You tell me I can’t go out for dinner with my friends on my birthday. Then you start screaming at me for no reason over and over. Then you punch me in the fucking face. You’re fucking psycho. I don’t even know what to do at this point. You just drain me of any life that I manage to have inside me. I’m going to bed.
+