Relapse.

For real, this time.

Before it started, I bought a David Wright t-shirt at Modell's because the Mets clinched last night and I needed something to celebrate with. It's a kids' large; there were no adult sizes left. It fits me well, even if the lettering on the back is a bit small. D:

Frustration settles in....

Yeah, so, explain something to me, you guys, because I don't understand. I'm not in a very good place right now. Mentally, financially, physically, whatever. Everything. I'm quite upset, and liable to break into a thousand pieces at any given moment.

I do NOT want to talk about it.

So why is that the first thing that people offer? Yes, let's pour some salt on the poor girl's wounds AS A FIRST SOLUTION. If that doesn't work, perhaps a carrot peeler up and down the arms? An acid bath? There are more humane ways to kill me, you know. So don't offer it because I don't want to talk. If I did, don't you think I would have by now?

God, sometimes you guys can be so stupid. You have the nerve to call yourselves my friends but you don't know me at all, do you?