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Thursday, January 29, 2009

how time flies. when compassion dies.

i hate school.

i hate math.
i hate being stupid.
i hate how everything's hard to do.
i hate how i leave it all to late at night.
i hate how frustrating things are.
how hard things are.
how awful things are.
i hate it when people walk in and say things like,
"this will prepare you for when you go to college."
because they can go fuck themselves.
i'm not going to college.
i don't want to learn math and science and english.
i want to act.
i want to do something worthwhile that i enjoy.
not things that make me feel stupid and slow,
because i'm not smart.
i'm not good at math, or science or english.
i'm bad at school.
i wish everything was as easy as performing.
where i just knew my way around.
but even then i get confused.
i cry sometimes because i feel so stupid and i know my parents are disappointed in me.
they always are.
whether its my behavior or my brain,
there's always something wrong with me.
it's like there's nothing good about me that matters to me.
and it's not like i try.
i try to do my work right.
i used to try to make them happy too.
but every time i tried something i would get crushed.
because either it wouldn't matter or i would fail.
i suck at school.
not everyone goes to college.
i hate feeling like a failure.
like i'm hopeless.
i hate it.
i feel awful.
i'm exhausted.
and i still have math homework that i don't have any clue how to do to finish.
it's first period today,
and i don't even have homeroom to figure it out.
i just want to get all of this school shit over with.
it's a bitch.
all it does is lower my self esteem.
and make me feel scared.
bay view needs to go fuck itself.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

sometimes;

it hurts too much to think.

i wonder how much i,
hurt people,
love people,
annoy,
love,
hate,
sing,
dance,
feel happy.
i wonder how many people i used to be friends with,
miss me,
love me,
would take me back.
who are my friends,
who am i,
i think,
are my dreams going to come true?
what am i learning,
what am i feeling,
why am i here?
do the photos matter,
for fun,
or for proof?
i wonder why,
why we cry,
feel,
listen,
care,
love.