i wouldn't take back the years, i've already cashed in your tears.

i can't think of the last time i posted. it's dated though, you know. i can't remember why i wanted to be a writer in the first place. i think i'd cry every day if i did. so much talent is out there, in such a big world, and i'm just not cut out, ya know?

i don't know where my life is headed or why i keep striving for the past. i'm missing cameron and i can't tell anyone but you. why do i fixate on people?! why do i torture them?! i hate my emotions, and i wish i could get a fucked-up test. because i know there HAS to be something the fuck wrong with me, and my feelings. i mean jesus h christ, how fucking sad do you have to be to have everyone in the world, fuck them over, win them back, and then fuck them right back over again. i don't know who the shit i'll end up with, but right now i'm just really fucking angry and i could scream. my head is about to POP. i wanna cry.

who am i gonna be with? where am i gonna do that at? and why? why the fuck has it taken so many wrongs to get me to the not even yet right? i feel like my life could be one big fucked up book, but i guess everyone feels that way, or else i wouldn't feel so cliche typing that. i wish people could see how normal i am, or maybe that's when i lose interest in them, when they do.
let's see.

i guess i just need to stop, because i'm not advancing, but i'm brewing. ohhhhhohhhhh.