You know-- it was okay for a time up until my dad disowned me and now I really have no one to kind of fall back on. It was okay; it was bearable until then. God I need to find something else to do than to bitch here but I just have so much in me and I guess I just need someone to talk to. It just feels really wrong to talk to people about my problems and that's why I don't do it but I can't anymore, I just need to fucking move on with my pathetic satire of a life.
I find myself cuddling my little plush stuffed dog to be able to sleep and even avoiding sleep on bad nights because it just means over-thinking shitty things. Why am I such a fucking mess.
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