I told my mom I was working on college. I mean, I guess I could turn this in, but I'd rather not. It would most likely end badly for me.
I changed the title and cover of this book. I think it's a lot more fitting now.
There's not really a point to this chapter, it's just word vomit, much like everything else I've written.
I came to the kind of sad realization that my grandmother, who I see maybe once every twoish months, knows me better than my mom, who I see daily.
Also, I had a breakdown last night. That was fun (note the sarcasm). I was physically shaking and sobbing. Again, fun.
As time passes I'm realizing more and more that I should get help for my mental health. However, that would mean having to talk to my mom about it *shudders*.
There's a history of mental illness in my family, which she acknowledges. Until it comes to me. When I'm suffering it's because it's a trendy thing to do, not because I'm actually suffering. My aunt's anxiety is just as bad as mine, and she has meds for it. But I can't because I'm just making it up in order to be cool apparently.
My mom kind of sucks.
Enough about me for a minute. How's life going for you?
School updates:
Chem- just a class. It's first period, so no one really expects anything from anyone.
Algebra 2- ew
German- it's fun.
Period Four- I don't even know what to call this class, but I'm really far ahead in it.
Art- This entire class is an acid trip and I love it.
English- meh
Welp, that's all I have for today. Have a nice day.
