so as i sit here sobbing my eyes out, i think, "perhaps this was a mistake."
she threw away my motherfucking cigaretees.
i hate when i realize how good i had it at the place i just ran away from.
i had awesome, amazing friends. here, my 1 friend (literally) is too busy for me.
and so, i cry by myself.
i could just go live with my dad. i don't know why this potentially helpful alternative is such a non-option. maybe because i love my mom and i want to make it work with her. maybe because i hate to love my dad and don't want to give him the satisfaction.
maybe because i'm lazy and don't want to move all my stuff over there.
at least i have my cats.
look! gah! i'm scary cat lady! smoking, writing, and petting my cats -- that's all i do.
at least i've lost my appetite. i can add anorexic to my list o fuck-upage. let's see, so far we've got: depressed, self-mutilator, bulemic. what's one more to the list, eh?