I think part of the reason im so into bands and shows and movies and books is because i rather just fill myself with those things than admit that im really lonely and not happy and want to cry most of the time.
No one cares unless you’re pretty or dying.
Even when you’re dying, they don’t notice. Even if you tell someone, they think you’re fine and they forget about it within a week. So called ‘friends’ bitch about you behind your back, saying you’re doing it for attention. That’s if they even listened to begin with. Or they just spread it around school. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not always like this. There is always at least someone who cares about you. But that’s the difficult part. Trying to find who that person really is.
Bitch stole all of my good nail varnishes.
at what age do i just magically turn hot
How To Do Everything Last Minute: A Novel by me that I am going to write later