projectile puking fire ants from the deepest crevice of my soul

[thissuicidenote]

whyd does my mom have to hate me so damn much. wasnt putting out her cigarretes on the insides of my thighs enough, no she had to use my favorite dashboard shirt to clean up the red wine she spilt on one of her boyfriends last night. i just stared at the red stain over the heart of my shirt and i saw my own spilt emotions, my own heartache and sadness. i felt much like that spilt wine. useless and unwanted. discarded in to the dark corner no one wants to walk into. i cant go on much longer, this jagged glass will pierce my thin delicate raspy throat and put an end to this meaningless storm that is my life.

maybe there is something to live for. please please tell me there is. i ask for just an ounce of hope. oh god,i think ill just drown in the momentary passion of exploding my seed in the face of my neighbors goat.