Headache equals no work for Bianca!

I got a 67 on my math benchmark.
WHAT THE HELL
HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN.
I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT WAS ON IT.
TAYLOR EVEN CHECKED IT.
I SWEAR TO GOD. I'M GOING TO HAVE A PANIC ATTACK.
 
This is why I curse everyone out in the hallways that bump into me, and get frustrated with all of my work.
This is a disgrace. I can't even tell my parents. I'm going to start crying more than I already am.
I can't breathe.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.

Ugh.
I hate school. This sucks.
The one thing I actually put time into and I get a 67.
Fuck this.
​

everything got gloomy once i walked back in the house
the stares were cold, the answers were bitter
it was almost like for the entire weekend i was dreaming
an ofcourse i wasnt but the freedom was given to me
the laughter came like thunder throughout all 3 days
and i was happy
so happy that when i came back
it felt wrong
it felt like i wasnt supposed to be here
better yet, like it was almost time for me to leave
and find new things

this will always be my home though.

Friday: ​Alrighty well work was butt. I mean like really, washing the toilet, cleaning pretty much the whole store. Butt. Its all because the owner was coming on Saturday and honestly I think he could care less how the inside of a bathroom would look like especially if it isnt that dirty. So working on a Friday evening, ugh I need to take some days off.

Saturday: Blah work, food, nap, homework, Saturday over, lolwut

Sunday: ^

Katey sat there at her desk twirling a blue pen in her hand. beside her was a waste basket filled to the brim with balled up pieces of paper. Some of which have fallen over and now reside next the basket itself. she stared at the blank paper before her and sighed heavily.She then got up and opened the window to let some light in. Outside was a dirt path down the path was an orchid that was in full bloom. It was a beautiful spring day and the cool breeze caressed her hair causing it to flow. Katey was about 5'6 and 17 years old her skin was a pale ivory and her hair a playful orange. After fifteen minutes of staring at the clear blue sky it had finally came to and she sat back down and began to write

My sweetest flower,

Your beauty and movement mesmerize me to no end and at times i find myself constantly thinking about you. You are very sweet and special to me and hope the day serves you well.

                                                                                    Love ,
                                                                                         Your secret admirer



Reading it over she got nervous about sneaking the card into her crush's locker what if he didn't like it or laughed at it to his friends she suddenly felt discourage and stared at the note again letting out a grunt of pride.He's not that heartless. She opened a draw withdrawing an envelope then folded the paper slipping it snuggly in. she then gave it a kiss and slipped it into her backpack heading of her room to school.

I was wondering why being a female was so fucking hard.
We have to deal with everything x10 PLUS other things on top of the normal things.

- Why does it take so long to get over someone?
- Why are emotions for us more in depth then most guys?
- Why do I have a period?
- Why do I have to give birth with all that pain?
- Why do I break out with random pimples when two days ago I was glowing radiantly?
- Why one minute I love my mom then I hate her for reasons I don't even know?
- Why do I cry when watching The Notebook?
- Why do I read my love horoscope, hoping one day it's actually accurate?
- Why am I looking into the problems of being a female?
- Why did Dumboldore die in Harry Potter?!
- Why in 10 minutes will I feel differently?
- Why do I care about everything?
- Why the fuck do I watch Lifetime and eat icecream when I'm sad?
- WHY DID THEY KILL DOBBBY IN HARRY POTTER!?

These next few lines kind of explain my life right now:

What can you do when your good isn't good enough?
When all that you touch tumbles down?
'Cause my best intentions keep making a mess of things,
I just wanna fix it somehow.

But how many it times will it take?
How many times will it take for me?
To get it right​...

it almost slipped my mind , like everything else i dont care about.
i forgot i had to write.
i like writing though. but on my own time. when i feel like it ....you know?
half of the time im spending more time figuring out what i should write about rather than writing it.
story starts here :
but at this current moment , i would like to thank myself for turning around. i was about to steal . not just from anybody but from a loved one. :/ a family member. less than 6 minutes ago , i grabbed it . layed it down. felt on it . and then crept back into the room i found it in  and put it back. i wanted it . i needed it . not even for myself but for someone else. something made me put it back though besides the fact that i could just ask for it. i would be taking the easy route.  i have to face this fear soon, but if i would have stole this thing , i wouldnt even be afraid.

o well .
im still scared.
but at least i didnt steal this for the easy route.

watched myself float away,
fell apart while you smiled and waved.

dreams mean nothing if they never come true.
maybe that's why i never felt close to you.

stars wouldn't shine if no one was looking.
i couldn't breathe without something to keep me on the edge.

and i hope you get this in time.
enough to say you're coming back to save me again.
​