******** pissed.
Get yelled at for absolutely no [********] reason.
Take a nap.
Get yelled at again for asking for help dealing with The b***h.
Then I get scratched and pushed and almost re-sprain my ugly ankle over the sneakers and clothes and s**t completely blanketing The b***h's floor.
I hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate about everything right now.
I'd run to the moon if I could, but, oh, I CAN'T. TOO BAD. MAYBE NEXT WEEK.
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ASK YOURSELF in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. And if this answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple "I must," then build your life in accordance with this necessity..." - Rainer Maria Rilke
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When I grow up I want to be
N O T H I N G A T A L L
N O T H I N G A T A L L