Satan School of Sophomores

Basic Bullshit: 1/11/15

8:19am Sunday, January 11

Why do I have to be such a lazy-ass bitch who doesn't work out enough? I want a flat stomach!!!!! I need to try!!!!!!!!

I love that I forgot... Oh wait I just remembered. Forget it. Dammit.

I need to stay away from chocolate. Even though it tastes how orgasms feel. But whatever. Nobody wants that. That's lame, right? FUCK.

9:07am
I love chocolate. Not lame Hershey's or m&ms, even Lindor is pretty crappy, I mean nice, quality chocolate. I could go on for days. Yikes.

I feel like I get myself off too much and lie around watching TV, reading books, and drawing. I need to be preparing for life. Shit. I'm going to enjoy being a teenager and a virgin for as long as it all lines up and lasts.

11:54am
Frat parties give me the creeps. It's rape central. Does anybody get that? Dangerous. Bad dangerous.

4:58pm
My parents say we have no "extra" money, AKA we have no money. The plan: the second I'm 18, I'm becoming a stripper. I'm not even joking. I need money for college. I need money to buy a new bra, because my cat scratched the shit out of mine, and I need money to pay rent when I'm older. I also have no real job skills, so here I go. Stripper. I could do it. How bad can it be? I'll give it a go for six months. No one has to know. I need money. Right now I have a little under two hundred dollars, and my parents can't know. They might take it from me or tell me to put it in my measly college fund. I just want a new bra. I'm so sad. My ass cat. I paid for that bra myself, $25. You know, that I'm not some Victoria's Secret slut. I bought a nice bra, because my old one is so worn out that it does nothing. I needed a bra, so I bought it from Macys. Now, it's ruined. Fuck. I'm sad. I'm pissed. I hate my asshole parents. It's not my fault we have no money. I blame mom and her bullshit cancer. I blame dad and his bullshit housing addition. They're idiots.

I hate this house.
I hate these people.
I want to be alone.
I wish someone would give me a nice hug and actually mean it.
No one barely ever hugs me, because they're scared of me or something. Now I'm antisocial and have problems with physical contact.

Thanks, society.

I'm so damn regular and predictable and average in ever sense of the word.

5:49pm
I don't have a mother. I don't have someone to tell my problems to and talk about boys with. My mother is a rape victim who fears men and fears me having anything to do with them. I was indirectly raised to think, stay away from boys. Boys are rapists. Boys don't have feelings. Boys only want sex. Men only want sex.

I don't have a mother. I don't have someone to make my lunch and do my laundry. I have an endless excess of chores and now I have no pay.

I don't have a mother. I have a roommate. Someone who shares space with me and never cleans up after them self.

I don't have a mother.

I have a roommate, a father, and a brother.

I wish my roommate would move out. She keeps ruining everything and causing everyone around her large amounts of unnecessary stress.

I wish I could get away, but I don't live in a city. I don't have a community center, a boyfriend, a friend who wouldn't mind me burdening them by moving in, a kind relative, a place to escape. All I have is a house in the middle of nowhere surrounded by dense, freezing-cold woods. I'm trapped. The only time I escape is school. I yearn for school. My friends have the luxury of wanting to stay at home and watch Netflix. I don't. I have nothing to come home to. I have a senile, twisted, roommate who will never, ever be the loving, adorable, sweet mother she once was.

All she cares about is her.
Not me or my dad or my brother.
Just her.
She doesn't worry about me, she doesn't care about me, I often wonder if she even wants me here. Most days, she doesn't.

9:44pm
"We should do drugs sometime"

10:20pm
Really wishing a hot, tall guy would crawl through my window and be like, "Wanna have sex? You're my one and only."
I'd be like okay sureeeee.
Ha I'm such a fruitcake.
If a guy actually crawled through my window and said that, I'd scream bloody murder and cut them with glass.

Lovely.

Where is your brain tonight, I hope he is a gentleman.

Stop. Writing.

(everything I wrote in this chapter is incredibly terrible and I'm sorry)