He went outside to the parking lot, they were waiting outside, her in a white tank top and birthday tiara (I shouldn’t have to explain this to anyone). My girlfriend, the person who threw the whole party, was of course nowhere to be found.
His daughter, in the same weird outfit, was holding the door for him.
I’m mad because I have to go hang out with the boy today. I don’t have to specifically, but it’s expected that when I’m around I’ll see him on weekends. I don’t want to, I’ll say it again. And I shouldn’t… because I just caught myself thinking thoughts that have absolutely no place in a relationship like this. He is definitely not worth hating.
I’m crying anyway. I’m afraid the surgery didn’t work, I am in pain again and physically, with my hand on my body, it doesn’t feel right. I’m back to the state that I was when I started this page, waking up crying for no reason and then writing long streams of conscious thought to see if I can pick out some reason why, like examining the vomit of a suicide attempt victim to see if you can find any of the pills, to know what poison to treat for.