I go home.
I look in the mirror.
I think I'm ugly.
I think I am fat.
I want to die.
And the worst thing is,
it happens all over again the next day, and the next, until you give up going on.
I'm sorry for doing this. But I feel like slicing my veins open right now.
YOU ARE READING
To FOXYINCONSIOUS1987
No FicciónYeee.... random shit.... stuff I want to tell him... songs i write for him... stuff i usually don't talk about will be put here... this could also become my journal/diary.... yea.... this book might be fucked up....
