Also,

My mouth tastes like Peanut Butter.

I can hear the boys outside my window talking in their low, grumbly voices.

And my head is itchy, I wanna rip out all of my hair and scratch and scratch.

But most of all, I feel numb.

I don't want to open my eyes all the way.
In fear that I might see something that will hurt me, or get me into trouble.

I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I want to curl up on my bed.

I want to be a mess.

I would love to see who would stick around. Who would stay my friend. Who would help me.
And I would love to see who would leave. Who would talk behind my back. Who would hurt me more.

My leg hurts.

My mouth still tastes like Peanut Butter. Sticky. Like I can't talk. Can't breath. Can't move or open my mouth.

The little trashcan on the bottom right of my computer screen is full. I feel as though that is me. I feel like I'm full of trash. And I need to pour it all out and start over.

Pull my hair in a pony tail, put on my running shoes, and go.
Just run.
And run.
And run.

Wouldn't that be nice.

To not have anything to do but run. To have running feed me, earn me money, make me sleep, everything I need in running. Then I wouldn't have to be happy or sad.

I'm looking out my window, and I see the shadow of that tree that's just next to my apartment.

It looks so happy.