You're making me crazy

Oh shit

And may God help you when you turn nineteen.

This much.

I might not always know when to say the right things. 

But at least I know when to not say the wrong things. 

uh, barf, sumn

Maybe I wish I sound(ed) crazy. It would be easier than waiting around for you to ask what's up. Because I want to be like, "Hey, I got two hours of sleep last night," but you know that I don't work that way. Because sometimes maybe I'm only pretending that I think that everything is magical. That's not true. I really do live in that other world. Does anybody even read this? I mean, nevermind. Whatever. Also, where the boys at? Unless your name starts with a 'P'. Then stop calling me, or messaging me, whatever. Let's just spill all of this out. Jesus, mom, can't you ever decide on dinner? And can't you see that I'm writing? This one's for you, Jude, Loretta, JC, someone, I don't even know. Who the fuck reads this? Don't answer that. But mom, I kept my pants on. And I'll always tell you everything. None of this matters. I just need to write. Because feeling crazy is one thing. But we all feel the same way and so none of this is original or new or anything and I love it that way. Shit.

I try not to think about it.

Someday -and there's talk of it being soon- we are going to get a new oven.


I don't know what I'm going to do. :'(

I learned this week

Why do we write? Why do we speak? Why do we do anything? 

to share secrets. 

but the person(s) that we share our secrets with becomes the secret holder. becomes as uncomfortable as we were when we had the secret.

 

I've had a secret inside of me. I've wanted it out for a long time. Especially lately. 

Maybe I will start being honest. Maybe the next time someone asks me, I will tell the truth. 

Also,

I've started using capital letters. And I like it!