(no subject)
if you feel like dying you might wanna sing.
I dont have to take this shit. i have a secret for you. hearts dont mean i wanna fuck you. and i don't know how muchn room for interpretation i leave whenever i do anything but it seems like it's too much because my mom can find something terribly and horribly ugly in every good thing i do. and i don't know what to say but what the fuck. i am convinced that i could draw her a wonderful masterpeice that told her how much i loved her and somehow she would interpret the two pot smoking premarrital sex having teens in it. and t would be a heart. and she would still see all that.
and i don't have to sit here and feel bad for her because i'm angry because she's just like her mother and she doesn't recognize it. and it's not just that she bothers me about having emotion. and it's not just that she doesn't understand me. it's that she means alot to me. and finding something ugly and nasty in everything beautiful i do doesn't make me feel terribly worthwhile.
she's slamming the cabinets and telling me how wrong i am to treet her like this. i simply came upstairs. i simply didn't want to talk to her. because anything i say can and will be used against me in the court of fucking life.
somebody needs to free speech quick. cas it's running on a very short leash here.
do you know what it is to have someone worry bout all the ugly things you draw. while you're pouring your heart into everyone. it's hurts to know that my heart is that painful to see.
I dont have to take this shit. i have a secret for you. hearts dont mean i wanna fuck you. and i don't know how muchn room for interpretation i leave whenever i do anything but it seems like it's too much because my mom can find something terribly and horribly ugly in every good thing i do. and i don't know what to say but what the fuck. i am convinced that i could draw her a wonderful masterpeice that told her how much i loved her and somehow she would interpret the two pot smoking premarrital sex having teens in it. and t would be a heart. and she would still see all that.
and i don't have to sit here and feel bad for her because i'm angry because she's just like her mother and she doesn't recognize it. and it's not just that she bothers me about having emotion. and it's not just that she doesn't understand me. it's that she means alot to me. and finding something ugly and nasty in everything beautiful i do doesn't make me feel terribly worthwhile.
she's slamming the cabinets and telling me how wrong i am to treet her like this. i simply came upstairs. i simply didn't want to talk to her. because anything i say can and will be used against me in the court of fucking life.
somebody needs to free speech quick. cas it's running on a very short leash here.
do you know what it is to have someone worry bout all the ugly things you draw. while you're pouring your heart into everyone. it's hurts to know that my heart is that painful to see.