That's enough social interaction for one day.

Let's get something straight before we do anything else:

I am going to disappoint you.

There are eight drafts on my blog and not one is good enough.
They're all too personal, too boring, too plain, too ridiculous. I can't post that, that's about my dad. I can't post this, because if I do, she might take it offensively and we're already fighting. But then again, who gives a shit, might as well, because I haven't gotten the chance to apologize yet and I know I'm going to keep screwing up so might as well add to the things I need to say sorry for. I won't post the list of things that piss me off, because it swears too much and I'm trying not to scare off everyone with how many times I might say "fuck" in one post.

So instead of trying to make myself post anything like that, I'm just going to write shit.

This is where the whole disappointment thing comes in. Because here's a confession: I'm not some lost, tortured soul. I'm not really poetic. I'm just some insomniac girl who loves fluffy things too much, laughs at butts, and tries to be full of good intentions. My life is full of my cat watching me brush my teeth, my dog farting and then wagging her tail until you pet her, and my family making fun of me because really, we're all a bunch of insensitive assholes.

Forgive me if I take after them.

My blood and my bones don't get along, which is probably due to the fact that my blood is intent on harm and my bones just want peace. My brain likes to plot and dream and doesn't make sense more often than not and my heart has been missing since I was twelve. It likes to pop back in every now and then, just to let me know what its plans are, but I can never convince it to come home.

I'm going away to college soon and I can't help but hope it at least follows me there.

The doctors like to speculate about what might be wrong with me, but they don't really know. I've given up on trying. I hate the way the hospital smells and all those white walls give me a headache. Plus my veins hate the doctors and needles hate me.

This whole thing is rambling and like I said, it's shit, but maybe I just need to write it somewhere.
Maybe someone can relate.

All I know is that my dog snoring makes me think of how he used to laugh at me for snoring and how he told me to go fuck myself yesterday. And how that hurts even worse, because last week she told me, "Fuck you."
Who can really blame them, though?

I think I take after my family more than I'd like to admit.

Do forgive me if I said fuck more than was comfortable. I wasn't joking when I warned that I had a swearing problem.

I guess I should write something worth-while now, but all I feel like doing is curling up in a towel on my bathroom floor and sleeping.

If you read this, hope you like being disappointed.

It's what I'm good at.