One poem used to be enough. Now it’s quantity over quality. When did that shift occur?

Mom hasn’t responded to my emails for the night. I don’t know when her break is. Around 3 I think?

Ugh. Life sucks. Why the psychic harassment. Why the rape. I need a UN crisis counselor to defend me. Do those even exist? Jesus fucking Christ. This is so real. So serious.

What other logical explanation is there? And why are people hiding it from me?

Also PS: Someone just fucking chop dad’s dick off already, it’s really fat and ugly and he ought to stop raping me and other innocent civilians with it. Dumb prick.

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