“Well at least Isaac isn’t that whipped”

“Isaac isn’t whipped at all. Just loved.”

“Oh. It’s good you don’t try to control him I guess.”

Hahahaha. You’re so ignorant. If only you knew any particle about what our relationship is like, you would have shut down that sentence before it even matured from an inkling in your brain. Whipped? Way to make me sound like a psycho. I’d be ashamed if he was whipped. I’d be horrified if he ever stopped being himself for my sake. It would be a sin. He has lived seventeen years and is somehow unscathed by bitterness or anger and I would be a demon to take away another person’s happiness. I love him more than all of science combined, more than old cameras and tattered books, more than sunrises and animals and everything else good in this life. I would never will him to change or to wait on me like some girlfriends do. Don’t get me wrong, if he does change I’ll just adapt and keep on loving whoever he becomes. He has complete freedom to grow into whatever he wants to be, as it should be in a relationship. But never would I command him to be any different; the state he is in is consummate. 

Don’t you dare degrade him like that ever again. You will get an earful next time.

It’s annoying that when I tell people I’m straightedge I sometimes get the response of “Haha, that sucks,” or “Why?”, as of I’m going to tell them I’m forced to stay clean by my parents or something. Why? Why do you drink or smoke? Because you want to. It’s the same with me, fuckheads. It’s my decision. So respect my choice as a way of life as much as I respect yours.

I hate you with every ounce of my being. You’re fucking lucky other people care about you, because if they didn’t, you’d be dead right now you bastard.

Read it.

Sometimes, getting homework done is difficult.

In fact, doing work at school is hard, too.

I dread going to work, and I hate volunteering, and I hate interacting with people at all.

Some days, being productive in any way is hard. Yet doing nothing is even worse because that means I have to spend more time with myself.

Those days, I never want to get out of bed. I don’t want to get up, put on a fake-ass smile and act normal when really, I can’t help but focus on how much I intensely hate myself.

Go fuck yourself, Nicole. You ruin everything.

I hate you.

Why do I feel like I want to die, even though everything in my life is going fairly well?