It feels like it's a lot later than seven, and I hate my family.
The more I think about it, the more I just wanna end it all. Because I'd rather not grit my teeth and be infuriated, I'd rather not cry, I'd rather not have that tight knot in my stomach that can only be remedied by pounding in my brothers face.
Too many things go wrong to make this wretched life worth living.
Yes, these are fatalist views.
But fuck it all.