Gosh… I’m insecure. 344 to go…

I’m not sure what to write about… I’ve kinda been a sulking, depressed teenage girl all day.

Maybe It’s the weather, maybe it was the bio test I took this morning, maybe It’s because that boy didn’t text me, maybe It’s because I fell down the stairs or because I broke my favorite travel mug, but I’m feeling rotten about myself. And, despite what you might think, I don’t need to be told how wonderful I am. I just need some sleep and… Yea… Just sleep.

As I danced around my kitchen while singing We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together and making a cheesecake and talking to my cat I realized that I’m a tad strange. And then I got worried. Do you ever worry about your strangenesses? Worry that they’re too strange or too unattractive or whatever. My parental units can hardly stand my quirks sometimes and It’s their job to love me…

I don’t know. I’m all weird and paranoid and insecure and tired and snotty and tired. Did I mention that I’m tired?

Love you!

Abby

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