The first time wasn’t too bad.

The second time was a little bit harder.

The third fucking time, feels like hell. Now I go to school where I have actual friends that I like. That means I have to explain. That means I have to let people know that I’m weak, that I’m vulnerable. That I cry. I don’t do that, I don’t express emotions like that. Just not what happens. Already cried at school on Wednesday for the first time since the 6th grade. I’d rather not make a habit out of it. But next week is gonna fucking suck. Probably just as bad as this week. Maybe worse. I can’t believe I never learned. Probably because it wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. A fucking choice.

Whatever though, I’ll get over it and be okay. I always am. For the most part.

where I have no idea what I’m going to do.

And I really fucking want to smoke a bowl.

Don’t care who with.

Just some fucking weed in my system, would be great.