I hate this.

Screw this. Screw everybody. I hate everybody.

I don't f*cking know why I'm in such a stinking bad mood.

No f*cking body cares.

All they f*cking wanna do is use my f*cking expensive makeup.

But they don't want me.

No f*cking body cares.

Yes. How ironic. I'm jealous, can? F*CK THAT.

I'm jealous that she does everything for her. She drives her to Malaysia and shops with her for her shoes. She lets her off when she's so damn wrong and claims it's just another way of bringing up a child.

F*ck!

I'm jealous that no f*cking body cares for me, or appreciates me.

I hate looking fat and ugly in photos. I hate bringing out a camera so old and bulky that Melissa refuses to help me take pictures with it. I hate having people comment on how I maybe should lighten up on the eyebrow powder or that my eyeshadow texture is too coarse.

What the f*ck does it have to do with you, you sucker?

She doesn't understand. No f*cking body understands.

That all I need is a hug and for people to assure me that I'm fine.

Why the f*ck does she make so much effort her one of her daughters and leaves the other to her own devices? I HATE THIS SCREWED-UP WORLD.

Belated onset of teenage angst. I think I sound depressed.

F*ck this.