(no subject)
Ten days. My god. Ten fucking days left until I'm. . . until WE'RE. . . all graduated.
My mother made me cry last night, for hours in fact, until I felt like I was going to throw up.
I hate everything, everything about myself right now. And I'm sick of pretending that everything's okay. I'm not going to lie anymore.
I hate myself for agreeing to not dorm at Fordham.
I hate this town, and yet I hate that I'm too tied here to ever really leave.
I hate every. . .single. . .solitary. . .part of my body, without exception.
I HATE my hair.
I hate the fact that I have little to no self-control, in any aspect of my life.
I hate that I'm too fucking much of everything.
And I HATE that I'm not worth the space I take up.
My mother made me cry last night, for hours in fact, until I felt like I was going to throw up.
I hate everything, everything about myself right now. And I'm sick of pretending that everything's okay. I'm not going to lie anymore.
I hate myself for agreeing to not dorm at Fordham.
I hate this town, and yet I hate that I'm too tied here to ever really leave.
I hate every. . .single. . .solitary. . .part of my body, without exception.
I HATE my hair.
I hate the fact that I have little to no self-control, in any aspect of my life.
I hate that I'm too fucking much of everything.
And I HATE that I'm not worth the space I take up.