stupid shit you don't want to read

Wonderinh

I know that there is no changing the way I am. Whether it be my race, my personality, my parents, the past. But I still can't help but wonder how different my life would be if I had felt comfortable in my own skin from the start, if I had tried harder to be liked, if my dad wasn't an immigrant and my mom was math teacher, if I hadn't worn a skirt that day. God life would be so much simpler if she could help me with algebra. I love my sisters and I love the trinkets that I've made, but the trinkets and the bursts of energy I get to make them are worthless if I can't sit through school long enough to actually do something with them. I can't be useful to anyone because of the way I am. Depressed and anxious and addicted to caffeine and can never just shut up. The cat is mad at me for checking him for fleas. It's not like I'm making him kill all those infested mice and birds. And besides. The soap I used made him smell nice.