Tomorrow is April 10, 2015

Every time I start to panic, I get really, really drowsy.  A soft depression sets in, an unknowing resignation.  No one's ever going to love me, anyway.  

sorry, i didn't realize, but thank you for getting me out of there

Thank you so much for yesterday.  

You stayed with me all this time.  

Last night was great. I never felt like inanity would be this soothing.  I remember laughing.  I don't usually laugh.  I felt so comfortable knowing the words and voices I heard, I knew that I was knowing them.  The lyrics I didn't like, but the voice was me.   A few weeks back, I heard my mother's voice, her tone was like I had died and she was going over ways that I was weak, like she was explaining it to my aunt.  I don't what she was saying exactly, how could she know?  It was having to hear that tone in her voice as though I had died. I don't know what.  Someone thought it would funny to put pictures of the those dead girls

don't come back, it's going to get pathetic

54 times.  That's how many times they bit me.  They had their way with me.  I have the scars to prove it.  I want to say welts but it sounds ugly.  Left me a wretched nervous wreck.  I can't say I don't say a little bit back to them each time.  They got the best of me though.  I caught a look at my body—yea, I caught a look.  I never been bit this good in my life.

Hvvb

im not being pschological, they're always duirty.  i was em.

the spelling, yea okay, so i got a spelling problem.  Look, I'm going to be on television.