I was sitting on the bus by myself and vomited. It’s not really an exciting story.

I wish we said “fancy” in America. As in, “I fancy you.” It’s such a more agreeable term than “I have a crush on you.”  What’s a crush? Like, I AM A BOA CONSTRICTOR AND I AM GOING TO IMMOBILIZE YOU WITH MY MISPLACED AND OBSESSIVE AFFECTION.  “I fancy you” is like, you’re so shiny and glittery and I just want to put you on a shelf and look at you for a while ‘cause you’re fancy.

Fuck english essays.
Bubble baths cure all my problems.

I’m so over being sick. I can’t do anything. Except vomit on buses, turns out I’m really good at that.
School is a massive dick head and I’m sick of everything.
rant rant rant.

Where are you? What are you doing? Why won’t you speak to me? Why won’t you come through when I need you most? Why won’t you listen to what I have to say to you? Why are you being so selfish? I need you. You used to care, so much. What happened? I miss you. You used to tell me I was the only one you missed. But where are you now? I don’t even know. Just talk to me. You know I need you. Help me, like you used to. Please.