A Better Place, A Better Time.

I've been here before.
My eyes so swollen from the liquid pain being squeezed out from fat disgusting tear ducts.
My legs so sore from running that they throb and burn from underneath three layers of blankets.
So why do I always run when I always end up at the same exact place?
In my bed, hugging a pillow.
Phoneless and friendless.
Alone and scared.

It always ends up the same.

And now I can't help but put this fucking song on repeat, along with a few questions. Why must I always be forced to grow up? Why must I always have to save someone else when I can't even save myself sometimes? And it wasn't even by choice. I was thrown at it. Whatever it is that happened, it was forced upon me, and now I'm the one that has to suffer from someone else's fears and insecurities.

My father turned off my phone, so please don't call or text it. I'm not sure when I'm going to get it back.

On a lighter note, Granada Comps was yesterday, and surprisingly, band won first in our division. Drumline won third but no one cares about them, except for Jason, who is just a wonderful person. I think that was the best I've ever played in my whole life. And I really was happy that she went.

Kelsey Rae