I'm not going to talk to mom. enough already. she can lecture about heaven and hell as much as she wants.

I hate it.

See, this is why I turn out to be a bit psycho. the inner hysteria. the hatred I couldn't show.at least dad is okay. at least he talks to me.

and fuck I hate folding laundries, eugh!
and i threw a bottle of juice yesterday. it went 'splash!!' and I let it be on the floor from morning till noon.
and I threw some stupid bottles in my room.
I'm hating my life. I hate it and why should people say life is beautiful? Fuck life.

and I got and email to shoo me away. great job. at least I know you're still alive.