I don't really want to graduate. I know I have to. Why must they make it so frigging hard for me........agh. I feel sick I feel sick I feel sick. I hate that thing that I don't mention. I hate it so much. It's going to ruin my fucking graduation. Motherfucker. I don't like to acknowledge it and that is my flaw, my fear. I'm worried it might be somehow noticed or known or I might be forced to deal with it... Eck eck eck. I don't like dealing with things. I want to go to bed and sleep for days. Just be warm and soft and have that after-sex feeling and cuddles and skin-electricity and be happy and warm and asleep. I want my Daniel. I want ibuprofen. I want this job that I might get might get might get. I want it badly. Eleven dollars an hour. That would be so so perfect. I could fly away to New Zealand on that. I could fly away and never come to this place again. I need lovings and huggings and reassurance. My family is grating on my soul. Hmph. I dunno. This might be good. I hope I don't cry in too ugly of a way.