Similarities between kids now and the Revolutionary War.

I generally prefer not to post twice in one day (spare my poor reader(s) the angst) but I had to type this.

Why do parents govern every bit of a child's life? I'm old enough to understand what is bad and what is good. I'm old enough to make my own decisions... but my parents make them all for me. "You can't go to your friends house." "You can't go outside, it's too cold."(Even though I could just wear a jacket) "Go grab that." "You can't do that, you're not allowed." "Yeah, sure, -insert my name here- would absolutely love going to your house!"(Talking about the house of someone who's pretty much a bitch. Not you Alanna. Or anyone you know.) "Go to church, -insert my name here-,"(talking about the one church which I absolutely hate. Talking about God should be more lively, and the people who talk at that church are anything but lively) "Take care of these little kids, -insert my name here- (I spent that time with a large amount of little kids who delighted it pulling hair, namely, mine.)

It's practically the reason for the Revolutionary War! Doesn't anyone see? My parents don't understand me at all! They don't know how angsty I am, they don't know how much I need help, they don't know how much I actually NEED to read books, they don't know how much I need to be with my REAL friends as much as possible, THEY DON'T KNOW ONE FUCKING THING ABOUT ME!!! Therefore, why should they be the ones making all the decisions of my life? Goddammit, why? It doesn't make sense. Don't get me wrong, I love them and all, but they don't understand me at all and shouldn't be making these decisions for me. Or even saying some of the things they say. (Look at post before this one to understand) IT'S FUCKING WRONG!!!

Oh yeah, of course, I get it. I'm just a useless little girl. A piece of shit. No one should care about me. I'm just there to show that my parents are loving and caring and never do anything wrong to me. Oh no, they never say one goddamned fucking bad thing to or about me. NOT!.

Hehe, fucking. What a lovely word. The way it feels like thick, heavy, melted chocolate, sweet and slightly bitter at the same time. It makes me happy, the word. Hah. I don't know why, but right now, it feels good to say it. Haha. Fucking. Hehe...Hehehe.... It rolls. Chocolate. Pumpkins. It rolls like pumpkins, feels like chocolate. Haha. Dementia. Disturbia. Haha. The song is ringing through my head now, like chimes and gongs combined. Chongs. Haha. "Disturbia..." Haha. Now there's another song in my head. I don't remember the name. Hehe. Heeheehee. Yes, I realize I'm going crazy. But that's a good thing. Eventually I'll be insane enough that I'll kill myself. Then I'll be in Hell and I'll be so insane and I'll be giggling so madly that the Devil with beg God to take me back into Heaven. And then God will go, "Hell, no!" Because I won't stop giggling, won't stop being insane, because I know too much about the world too early. And I can't take the pressure alone, but everyone's left me alone, except for people who are too far to help, so now my mind has collapsed, like a tree with too much ice on it. Haha. Chocolate. Fucking. Goddamned retarded. Shit. Fuck. Simile. Tangerines. Oranges. Mike Ikes. Haha. Ahahaha. And then I'll get sent back to Earth, because neither God nor the Devil wants me. And then I'll run around and kill people I hate and commit suicide, but I'll be sent back here because God and the Devil still won't want me.

Hehe. Demented. That's what I am right now. My soul is sagging, coming apart at the seams. I'm coming apart. My sanity is hardly a flicker in my mind anymore. Chocolate. Marshmallows. S'mores. Fuck. Damn. Piss. God. Shit. Bitch. Ass. Asshole. Goddamned Fucking Pissing Asshole of a Bitch. Haha.

There's no reason for anyone to care about me. I'm just your average shit that you see sometimes. Hehe.

No reason for living or dying for me.

"No reason to cry anymore, uh-uh-uh, no reason to die anymore, I got the love of Jesus in my heart!" Uh, no. Church song. Used to make me happy. Now it makes me mad. Who wrote it, anyways? There's always a reason to cry, always a reason to die.

HaHa. hAhAhA. AHAHAHAHAHA. I'm going crazy, there's nothing anyone near me can do about it, tra la laaaa! Hheehehehehehehehehehheheheheheheheheheh.