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Sunday, 21 August 2011

Everyone's freaking privatising their damn blogs (or deleting every single post and putting a single emo quote there). I just need something to read, dammit. Sigh, I wish I had a crush. Someone to obsess over and the little thrills you get when you're close to them. I don't feel like a normal bloody teenager. I am willing to bet ten whole cents that I'm the only psycho who actually restrains myself from interacting with people because I'm worried I'll become like them  stupid. Funny how everyone keeps commenting that I'm "mature".
Fuck that, what's the point of being mature if you can't stick with a friend for more than a few years without outpacing them? What's the point of being mature if you can't stick around with peers your own age because a voice in the back of your head is constantly going off on a tangent like "Oh my GOD , I can't believe you just said that, you dumb twat! Doesn't YOUR psychotic voice tell you what to say?"
And what's the point of being told you're mature when all it gives you is a superiority complex like this that makes it really hard to make close friends?

I think I'm just crazy.

Odds are, in twenty years, I'll snap and kill my husband and kids and throw 'em off a building or something.

I feel freaking cheated out of my teenage hormone package. Fuck.

I want a damn refund.

I want an equally psychotic person to talk to.

I want some yoghurt. Ah well, toodly doos. My stomach's growling.

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words spilled @ Sunday, August 21, 2011 / leave goosebumps here