Nothing sounds weird to me now. In fact, I would love some rubbish talk right about now. I want to fill my head with all sorts of crap that I go to sleep with nightmares and that I'll even wake up with a cold sweat. I don't want anyone to tell me that it's going to be alright because I'd probably scream like a girl who'd just seen a ghost. My face will be so pale I'll make Snow White jealous. I'll play the little psychotic girl in horror movies, where she just huddles in a corner, wraps her arms around her knees and just rocks back and forth like the wall was a constant back pillow. I would love to cry in front of someone just to make them feel helpless because I know they can't help me. I'll flinch when they try to embrace me like they had just stabbed me. I'll walk alone in the pouring rain and get sick and skip school for longer than I'm allowed. I'll stuff myself with whipped cream like how they do in the movies and down any booze I have. I'll sleep on the streets and throw up in the morning like I had just gotten pregnant. 


I don't want to believe that I'm capable of being loved.