):< .
God, he seriously needs some kind of anger management routine or something.
Okay, so here's the scenario; let's say I, I dunno, forget to take out the rubbish and it gets too full. That wouldn't be a problem for me, I'd just be like 'Oh shiz, I better take that out' and then I'd take the bag out and tie it up (sometime I'd have to take some of the rubbish out so it'll fit, but what kind of worry is that?) and then I'd take it outside to the wheelie bin.
But if dad discovers...

Okay, where do I start?

Don't leave me alone, guys. Even when I say 'go away', don't. I'm fucking lonely.
I'm fucking sick and tired of being left out of conversations.
I'm sick of being part of a gang that doesn't even acknowledge my existence.
I'm sick of being looked down upon like I'm some hideous animal when I finally do pluck up the courage to speak.
I'm sick of being ignored when I make an accomplishment. I'm sick of being afraid of my own anger....

Ha.
Hehehahehaheaaaheeheeeeh.
...




....



BWWAAAAAAAUUUUU UUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!

IMMEANSERIOUSLYIAMNOTHAVINGA GOODDAYTODAYOHNOES!

...
*huff* *pant*
Okay. *pant* I-I think I can ex... explain why.
So this person at school right. From my school. You wouldn't know him. Let's call him LJ. He acts like a homosexual, right. So he's adept at using the feminine mess-with-your-mind...

Ok? Don't read this if you don't care for other people's whinging whining and/or boohooing (not to be confused with woohooing, you Sims2 voyeurs). Ok. Go now. Go. Shoo fly.

*ahem* AAAANYWAY.
So I've been sick since Thursday which I've already made a blog about (which I do believe has promoted to brochitis), I've got a coldsore inside my mouth that tastes like it's constantly seeping blood, mum won't buy me another box of black hair dye for me (you can see my horrid fawny-brown...