Saturday: Nothing.
Sunday: Get dragged to church, youth group that night so I don't blow my brains out due to boredom.
And then it's back to fucking school.
Weekends aren't even good anymore.
Hopefully I'll find some time to write tomorrow and Sunday. But if not, there's always good ole fourth block.
Got home from school. Locked out of the fucking house. I called my sister, she came and let us in. I decided to go for a skate. I usually don't skate in converse, because I get blisters. Now I want them. Some physical hurt would be nice for a change.
We talked about how she feels now. I'm back in my apathetic mood. I'm done. She's done. I need someone who isn't going to run away from life when it gets tough. And that's all that she's done lately. Running away from the pain of missing me, running away from what she did. In my opinion, if she's big enough of a girl to have mindless, loveless sex with a guy, she should be mature enough to face consequences. Oh well. We had plans to see each other over Spring Break. Well now, when she tells her father why, he'll ask me what's wrong. All I have to say is, "Your daughter needs to talk to you. Don't let her out of this one." He'll talk to her. She might hate me for it, but that doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. I went for a walk tonight. Full moon. It makes me restless. So I'm walking around at 10:30 at night. I find myself wanting a break from the same old, same old. I contemplate jumping in front of a car. Not to kill myself, but because life would be different. I crave the adrenaline. I want to get mugged, or attacked by wild animals. I've never run due to fear. I hear its one hell of a rush. I guess tonight isn't my night to find out. Next time, I'll walk through the bad part of town. That should get some results, and rather quickly. I don't mind getting caught. I don't mind getting beat up. I crave it. The adrenaline. She can never read this now. She'll hold herself responsible. Responsible for what, I ask you? If you're reading this, obviously you either snuck on here, or I gave you the URL. Well don't feel responsible. It wasn't you. It's purely curiosity. Curiosity of what it would feel like, to get attacked. I haven't been truly scared, and I regret that. The only difference between now and then is the fear of pain. I no longer fear pain. I embrace it. Don't get me wrong, I don't hurt myself. Not yet, anyways. I've thought about it. But now it's a curiosity. I leave you with that.
We talked about how she feels now. I'm back in my apathetic mood. I'm done. She's done. I need someone who isn't going to run away from life when it gets tough. And that's all that she's done lately. Running away from the pain of missing me, running away from what she did. In my opinion, if she's big enough of a girl to have mindless, loveless sex with a guy, she should be mature enough to face consequences. Oh well. We had plans to see each other over Spring Break. Well now, when she tells her father why, he'll ask me what's wrong. All I have to say is, "Your daughter needs to talk to you. Don't let her out of this one." He'll talk to her. She might hate me for it, but that doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. I went for a walk tonight. Full moon. It makes me restless. So I'm walking around at 10:30 at night. I find myself wanting a break from the same old, same old. I contemplate jumping in front of a car. Not to kill myself, but because life would be different. I crave the adrenaline. I want to get mugged, or attacked by wild animals. I've never run due to fear. I hear its one hell of a rush. I guess tonight isn't my night to find out. Next time, I'll walk through the bad part of town. That should get some results, and rather quickly. I don't mind getting caught. I don't mind getting beat up. I crave it. The adrenaline. She can never read this now. She'll hold herself responsible. Responsible for what, I ask you? If you're reading this, obviously you either snuck on here, or I gave you the URL. Well don't feel responsible. It wasn't you. It's purely curiosity. Curiosity of what it would feel like, to get attacked. I haven't been truly scared, and I regret that. The only difference between now and then is the fear of pain. I no longer fear pain. I embrace it. Don't get me wrong, I don't hurt myself. Not yet, anyways. I've thought about it. But now it's a curiosity. I leave you with that.
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