I'll stop a fucking war for you.

so when I looked in the mirror this morning, I saw the person I didn't want to become. The girl who cares for meaningless reminders alluding to an enjoyable, or less pleasant, existence at a riddiculous highschool with children who never learned to share. The captain who cant get off her vices, let alone attend an entire week of school. The little baby who needs to get over stuff, and let the trivial trials of almost normal occurances slip past because in the real world, they never matter.

I guess the mirror taught me something. Because I realized I am that girl. I will always be that girl. There is no reason for me to pretend. I try all the time, but I am the epic failure of the better part of College Park.

They stole my makeup. I'm whining like a three-yr-old but I dont give a shit. It was my idea first, they saw it and called it theirs. That is fucking stealing. If it were a paper, it would be plagerism and punishable by law. Thats wrong. There's nothing I can do about it and while that black eye heals I hope you think of me and get as pissed as I am tonight. I hope you cut your goddamn wrists like you did when you hated your moms boyfriend, how you were when Jordan could get his dick hard enough to fuck you, and when you realized that I wasn't the best thing in the world for you. You want to discuss secrets? I'll write a fucking book about you. With your name, your address, and everything you ever told me, honey. I'll start a fucking war for you. I'll stop one, if I have to. Anything to make you feel the way I do. You could use a healthy dose of reality and pain.

Half my problem is is melodramatization. If I didn't already know that, I would be dressing up in my white polo shirt and plaid grey skirt every morning instead of dirty jeans and wrinkled tees.

so shoot me, I'm finished with your accusations through texting, your open theivery of things you know will hurt me, and words you flip out like last nights garbage, full aware that it will kill me. Because I have No self-esteem. and I cant get over it. Or you, really.

please, just give me back my life, my mind, and my thoughts and I swear we'll call it even. I'm sorry I pulled your hair.