I wish muh black book was small enough for my purse.
raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

butter me queasy

anxious
questionable
exhausted
hateful
disgusted
messy
incomplete
sad

mental health day.

I have such a fucking headache, my stomach is tied in knot after knot after knot.
I get mad at other people when I should get mad at me, I fucking mess up and I am the one who puts up with everything.
When did I become such a loser?

I like am beginning to become annoyed with myself and all the little things I do, and all my justifications for them. I can think that play should be more important than play, but I'm stuck in this dream world when I need to be sucked back into reality. I can live reality and still hold my ideals that people are more important than work, and I can find my happiness in everything else if I want.
I don't know what I'm trying to say.
My childish ways and my avoidance of responsibility are a means to an end. I have to grow up. No more stupidity.

But I am going to start growing a god damn back bone.