Grow up.

Honestly, I am getting sick and tired of people my age or just a year or two younger being so immature. Grow up. The answer to everything is not a random sexual outburst. It’s not cute, it’s not funny. If I’m having a problem you saying “boobs” is not going to make things better. It’s not even gonna make me smile, in fact it’s going to piss me off more. You’re wondering why people have started becoming withdrawn? It’s because you still have the mentality of a thirteen year old.

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I’d like to live my own life, please and thank you.

Okay, so I’m not going to go into this huge rant, but it really bugs me when someone tries to plan your life. Like really? I’m a year and some odd months older than you. I’m almost two years older, actually. And I’ve had so much more life experience than you’ll have by the time you’re twenty. And you think you can tell me what to do? I love you, but you’re naive and innocent and when it comes to relationships, well… I don’t need your advice because it’s not real and logical- its childish and romanticism. It’s Disney love, not real life.

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Irrational fears.

Ever have any irrational fears? Well probably not as crazy as mine. This will probably get me locked up in the looney bin- or nuthouse- or whatever. But I already know I’m insane. Obviously I have to be since the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting a different result. I mean I obviously am because I blog and expect people to read it. Anyways- back to my fears. I have a fear that all of a sudden when I turn off the lights there’s a murderer in my room. Like, when I turn off my light it crawls under my bed. It’s crazy. I also have a fear that if I turn off the light in the bathroom and look in the mirror I’ll see the devil. Yeah. I’m crazy- so what, who cares? I’m done.

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The joys of babysitting

So, my mom’s friend has this really cute boy who’s 2 years old. He’s precious. Well, they have a wedding to attend and so I’m tagging along to help babysit. I’m usually good with kids, but this boy HATES me. He refuses to hold my hand and throws a tantrum if I try to touch him. And if he’s already having a fit I have to take him outside, but he won’t follow so I have to pick him up which makes an even BIGGER scene and then carry him out kicking and screaming. But then when I give him food he’s sweet has can be. Of course. What a typical boy. At least I got him to take a nap.

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It was a mistake. Give me another chance.

I made a mistake. I should’ve listened to everyone, but I didn’t. And after that, I should’ve listened to my mom, but I didn’t. And after that, I should’ve listened to my head instead of my emotions, but guess what? I didn’t. My emotions are what got me into this in the first place. I should’ve sat down and thought about it. BUT I DIDN’T. This was all a mistake. I want another chance. Please give me one. Please. I gave you one. Now it’s my turn?

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“But if we loved again, I swear I’d love you right “

I should’ve fixed this when I had the chance. I should’ve sat down and thought this through instead of letting emotions get the best of me. Now everything I cared about is getting taken away. You don’t even care how I feel. Do you really think this is for the best? Or are you trying to protect yourself from getting hurt? I promise, if you give me a second chance I’ll show you I won’t hurt you.

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Hold on and let me think a minute.

You’re making me change to the person I used to be. A better person? Yes. But a weaker person. One who got walked on. One who wore her heart on her sleeve. One who got hurt and that’s the reason I changed. Yes I miss it an I would love to go back in time and be her again, all naive and unknowing, but change back? When I know what might happen? I’m not comfortable with that.

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