(no subject)
For the love of God people, please remember there is a fucking reason that I am on antidepressants. And yes, I can fucking hear you talk about me in the kitchen. We are 20 feet away. It’s not my fault that when you use me as the butt of all your jokes I snap back some times and when I do I’m pissed off. Just leave me alone and stop making fun of me. I don’t know which is worse, the fact that you know why I’m fucked up or the fact that I am related to you.