i wrote something, but it doesn't matter. i am such a teenager. i am intensely unhappy, so unhappy i am glad. does that make sense?

i don't care if i make sense any more. the days seem really long, because i go through thirty different kinds of moods during the day. sometimes it scares me how confused i am. sometimes i am scared to say anything, because i know i will change my mind five minutes later. i can't make up my mind about anything.

oh, whatever.