You make me want to cry I hate you so much.

C’mon, grunt, you fucking asshole. Show us all how very manly you are.

(I hope I stop playa hating, someday.)

To melodramaticize a quote: I don’t have to go home, but I can’t stay here.

Anger: I hope someday he feels how much I could cry, do you know what I mean?

Me: I wish I weren’t so spiteful. I need to stop.

Can you pray for me tonight? That I can stop.

I don’t really want him to know that it’s me who would cry.

I don’t want him to know someone would cry. Anyone.

I want him to be alone. I want him to cry. That’s wrong.

I don’t mean that, it was just a good turn-around.

I want this place to smile. I want to love everyone I can.

I want to never be annoyed. I want to not hold this against anyone.

You suck Mike. You hurt too many.

But so do I. I’m just on the could cry side. Or I was. That was then. This is.

(I need to stop caring. Now.)

Bye.