Organized Mess

I'm skipping school because I'm unwell (cue Matchbox 20's song playing in my head). I'm pretty sure I got over being sick, like, a millisecond ago...and now I'm sick again? What the hell, man. My immune system sucks!

And I've got a report on some dude with a theory on personality development for next week. Die.

Yesterday, I did the smartest thing I've done in quite awhile and stopped listening (but it was the dumb kind of smart decision, if that makes any sense at all which it probably doesn't). I already feel like crap physically and emotionally and, like I told Carla, I really don't need anything else to make me feel worse. If only I could be REALLY smart and just stop dealing with this bullshit altogether. He's like a fucking whirlpool - he sucks me in, every single time, into a world of madness, lying, deceiving, jealousy, cheating, stolen kisses, not-so-wholesome sleepovers, revenge, self-inflicted harm, crying...need I go on? It's more bad than good, but the good makes up for all the bad. Still, I know it's not healthy. But when you're as insanely attracted to pain as I am, then it's all kind of hard to give up. Even more so when hearts get in the way. My whirlpool.

I thought I had made up my mind about what to do about the whole situation. Then my set-on-shuffle-playlist decided to be an asshole and played a certain song which never fails to make me miss him. And then, riiiight after I had just texted Norelle saying I wasn't going to call or text him anymore, guess what? He called me. To ask me how I was and to tell me he missed me.

I would very much like to believe that I am so much better than all of this.