fuck this

I don’t even know what “this” is, depression or just gray summer days or Wal-mart. Wal-mart gives me an uncomfortableness. I can smell the exploitation, or maybe that is just the tears of the fat, screaming children. I really intensely dislike that place. I also dislike the ugly skies and the way that the dirt smells as the steam rises from it. I dislike the fact that most anything will make me cry and the fact that only just now are people thinking I should be medicated when it’s been so, so much worse than this. I don’t even know if I qualify, now. I feel easy, and happy and not exactly depressed, not exactly like I should be drugged, but at the same time I don’t feel like rebelling or like it’s cheating or anything like people say – like I have said? I don’t remember. I’m just afraid that I am not bad enough to be made better or something like that, or that I’ll still be crying and cutting myself, or that it’ll go away and I’ll feel fine the way I always, always do and things will just be forgotten. I just want to sleep and sleep but I need to do laundry and chores and I need to pack and I really want to see my cherry bitch to say goodbye but I don’t know if I can or when, and I have to redye my hair and I just want to go to bed.