you know, there's not a day that goes by in this apartment that i don't want to shred my thighs with the boxcutter.


i take jokes too far and cause everyone around me more discomfort and irritation than anything else.
"i'm going to kill myself tomorrow."


if i didn't want to die in the summer by the ocean i totally would.
and my grandmother said no to europe.
so i'm stuck in hell for at least another year and a half, with a suitemate who resents the hell out of me for containing his inner pony.

fuckeverything.