amsterdam

sweet sixteen - nine hours.
what a joke.
i'm so sad. so unbelievably sad. everything is so wrong today. maybe anthony will be there when i get home - maybe he won't. maybe the school have rang my dad - maybe they haven't. maybe i'll kill myself tonight - who knows?
i'm so sick of life now. i feel like there's just no point in anything i do. it's never right; never the way it should be; never done properly.
i'm just giving myself away, piece by piece by piece: pieces of me lying about all over the place. like a candle that's been alight for years, melting from the inside out.
i'm just a puddle on the floor.