Ilana (loving_bitch) wrote,

everybody's got a little someone to crush but me.

i fucking love jack off jill. i dunno, if i run around and scream and shit, i'll get told i'm "acting out" and get sent to extra therapy, or worse, the white hellhole. my mother just doesn't understand that i need to scream and yell. and the fucking doctors don't get that either. "here. seclusion room." fuck you. so this shit is good for me because i can totally scream while listen to music and tell my mother, "i'm just singing along." plus they can express things that i definately can't.

today is the sixth (or is it fifth or seventh?) day in a row i can't get a grasp on what i'm feeling. it feels so weird! i don't know what the hell is going on in my brain and fucking monique is telling me, "yes you do, you just don't want to." fuck you, just 'cause you're a therapist doesn't mean you know what's going on inside my brain. jesus christ, i'm screaming like a fucking banshee in my head. i wish i could just let it all out and run around and scream and shit... i would love to do it in my drama class, run and scream and let it alllll out. kill me faster with strawberry gashes all over, all over me. seriously, it would be the best therapy i ever got, still living in the world and continuing regular life but having a place i could go and let it all out. singing is not a good way to get agressions out. i wish i could take, like, dance class more often or something. because it feels so good, concentrating on something and putting all my emotions into it and fucking getting it all out. this town is our town, so fucking glamourous. i bet you'd live here if you could and be one of us. i mean, i'm a shitty dancer! i admit it, i have no rhythm and i have no grasp on choreography and shit, but it feels good to get it all out. i honestly don't give a fuck what i look like when i dance because i know for sure i suck, but it feels so good to get it out. i'll bask in your forever, fucking waste of time. i don't want to go to therapy anymore because i can't sit down and tell a person how i'm feeling. the closest i've ever gotten to doing that with her was today when i told her about my breakdown over my grandfather.

i realized i'm in the middle of another breakdown right now, a different kind. suck my dick in this town. it's a quieter one, because i have no time to scream and cry and rip things up and destroy myself. i have to be in school and pay attention and be perfect and save the world from fucking everything because people need me and need protection and i'm the one they ask to help them to protect them, because i'm fucking superman, isn't that right? i'm wonderwoman! fuck that fuck that.

i'm pretty angry at zac... the reason he's not talking to catt is what? that she's hanging out with me and dylan? ok, zac, don't blame me for you not wanting to talk to her. you make some pretty stupid excuses. tell the truth, don't blame others. asshole.

i got really creative, i've made, like, five necklaces in the past two days. i started tearing up one of my canvases from the "crazy" painting from breakdown on december 26th. ayy.

i got an a+ on mr. levin's paper! ohhh my gooddd...

fuck you, fuck you, fuck you fuck you fuck you!
i will never make it better, it will always hurt, you fucking asshole!

alright, if i'm ever gonna wake up tomorrow, goodbye love, goodbye.
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