(no subject)
*turns into small puddle of goo on library desk*
Waaaaaaaaaaaah. I don’ wanna go home on the bus or call my brother, but I guess I’ll have to do one of the two, and frankly the bus strikes me as the less painful option.
Oi. Oi. I don’t want to move and walk to the bus stop. It’s too far away. I can’t, I can’t. I just want to stay here but I can’t, because I have to move to either meet my brother at the car which is presuming he isn’t gone already and will take me, which he might not, or to catch the bus, because I can’t expect someone to come back down here for me after getting home I can’t it’s selfish I hate being selfish.
I don’t want to go home. I didn’t want to go to school. I don’t want to go home, anyway. I wanna stay here. No one’s hurting and sad and angry here. I don’t have to take care of anyone. I can just sit here, and read, and work on my stories and my essays. I don’t want to go home. It was such a long weekend. I didn’t do anything. I just sewed because if I sew I don’t panic instead (I panicked anyway)
Don’ wanna go home. I have to go home. I promised I’d bake cookies for Mom. I don’t want to. I think the weekend’s catching up to me, I keep crying. It was awful. I get so scared. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to. I want to stay here. I feel so bad. So useless and stupid and small. I didn’t get much done today either. I hate my poetry professor’s teaching style. His testing style too. It sucks. He keeps focusing us on the poems he’s put on the curriculum, but even though he gives us all these lectures on terminology he’s not really teaching us how to read, not giving us the tools to do it. I feel hemmed in and narrowed and I don’ like it. Even our final paper has to be on poems we’ve gone over in class. That’s not fair. Even in High School I could do more than that, but at least I can do Blake, that’s okay, to do Blake, I like Blake, I don’t think my prof really gets him, even though really, who does?
Oh, god, I can’t have a breakdown. Not now, not now, not now, I can’t, I can’t, everything else is too much of a mess, and everyone else is all upset and unhappy and being neurotic and I can’t be can’t be can’t be, so I have to quit crying and I have to get up and catch the bus and make cookies and do homework and everything else and then I have to get up and go to school tomorrow, I can’t just turn into a puddle, I have to quit crying
Such a self indulgent moron, going back to writing Wrath!fic now. Can’t quit summon up the love for that meme. Too self indulgent and stupid.
Waaaaaaaaaaaah. I don’ wanna go home on the bus or call my brother, but I guess I’ll have to do one of the two, and frankly the bus strikes me as the less painful option.
Oi. Oi. I don’t want to move and walk to the bus stop. It’s too far away. I can’t, I can’t. I just want to stay here but I can’t, because I have to move to either meet my brother at the car which is presuming he isn’t gone already and will take me, which he might not, or to catch the bus, because I can’t expect someone to come back down here for me after getting home I can’t it’s selfish I hate being selfish.
I don’t want to go home. I didn’t want to go to school. I don’t want to go home, anyway. I wanna stay here. No one’s hurting and sad and angry here. I don’t have to take care of anyone. I can just sit here, and read, and work on my stories and my essays. I don’t want to go home. It was such a long weekend. I didn’t do anything. I just sewed because if I sew I don’t panic instead (I panicked anyway)
Don’ wanna go home. I have to go home. I promised I’d bake cookies for Mom. I don’t want to. I think the weekend’s catching up to me, I keep crying. It was awful. I get so scared. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to. I want to stay here. I feel so bad. So useless and stupid and small. I didn’t get much done today either. I hate my poetry professor’s teaching style. His testing style too. It sucks. He keeps focusing us on the poems he’s put on the curriculum, but even though he gives us all these lectures on terminology he’s not really teaching us how to read, not giving us the tools to do it. I feel hemmed in and narrowed and I don’ like it. Even our final paper has to be on poems we’ve gone over in class. That’s not fair. Even in High School I could do more than that, but at least I can do Blake, that’s okay, to do Blake, I like Blake, I don’t think my prof really gets him, even though really, who does?
Oh, god, I can’t have a breakdown. Not now, not now, not now, I can’t, I can’t, everything else is too much of a mess, and everyone else is all upset and unhappy and being neurotic and I can’t be can’t be can’t be, so I have to quit crying and I have to get up and catch the bus and make cookies and do homework and everything else and then I have to get up and go to school tomorrow, I can’t just turn into a puddle, I have to quit crying
Such a self indulgent moron, going back to writing Wrath!fic now. Can’t quit summon up the love for that meme. Too self indulgent and stupid.