Monday, March 14, 2011

When I lived with my stepmother she used to yell at me for never washing the blankets I slept on and with. I don't know why people get all riled up about little things like this, or can't realize that maybe some people are comforted by burying themselves in familiar, natural, and human smells. I'd spend a lot of time in those blankets too. Blood, sweat, and tears. Literally. And other things. That was stupid.

When I was a teenager my friend drove me to planned parenthood so I could get the morning after pill and then we went to hershey park. The whole time I was there I just hoped I wouldn't experience side effects from it so I could ride the roller coasters. That's disgusting. This disgusts me. I disgust me.

I don't know why I'm thinking of this stuff.

Maybe because I got like one hour or sleep.
Maybe because I'm about to drastically change my life.
Maybe because I want to be curled up in my stinky blanket's at my mom's house.
Maybe I'm scared of growing up.

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