What a waste of a sunday afternoon.
I’m so sick of people touching my things. When something is bought like the stuff I cook with, DON’T TOUCH IT! it annoys the fuck out of me how you claim that your making dinner but it’s something I wouldn’t even think about making let alone eating. The least you can do is let me make dinner and keep your damn hands off my food.’
I’m taken for granted. Alot.
I am going to get FAT!
Chillin at home eating popcorn.
- me: i actually feel happy with everything right now
- face: here's some acne
- school: here's some work
- friends: here's a knife in the back
- parents: here's some added pressure
- crush: here's my new girlfriend
- me: ok
What a day, I’m so tired. I guess I’m not wanted at home anymore. Mom just asked me if I left then why did I come back. Wow, this day is just making me feel great. No mr young’s notes are not getting done and neither is this essay for schwen. Everything else is done. I’m tired. Night.
