I hate Thursdays. I hate people yelling at me. I hate people complaining to me. Why do I feel like I've been in this world a little bit more than my actual age? Why do I get this wierd feeling inside my stomach about the most wierdest thing? It's like I can feel someone putting their hands inside my stomach and tying a bow, using my organs as a rope. It's a sick feeling.
I'm so confuse with every little thing.
I dont know where to stand between the two world.
My reality and my subconcious keeps telling me different things. I have trouble keeping up with it. It fucks with my head. I hope they both die in hell.
I guess all I have is the same old same old. I'm stuck with the old philsophy of "what ever happen, happens".
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