saturday 16th april, 2007
I don't even get the point of this.
I can fully guarantee you, Carol, are reading my words right now. I've gone home already, laying on my bed, trying not to cry.
Well, here goes nothing.
My name's Tyler Joseph (but you already know that, right, Carol?) I'm seventeen years old, I like music and I'm sad.
I'm not sure why I'm sad, but I am.
I think it's pretty rude for you, Carol, to be reading my personal thoughts. You said you wouldn't read it, but you never promised, did you?
You're still making notes while I'm sat in this comfy chair, scribbling away. I have exactly fourteen minutes and twenty one seconds until Zac comes for me. If he can stay away from his girlfriend that long.
I don't
Now I'm at home. You stopped me in the middle of a sentence. I do not like that.
You needed to 'talk', huh, Carol? You want to send me away, I'm guessing. Nobody's kept me for more than a month.
I'm tired. I'm just tired, so I'm going to stop writing now and try to sleep. I'll see you on Monday.
~ Tyler Joseph
