Today I sorted through all this crap that I don't really need but I have a sentimental attachment to. I read through all this stuff about how much my mom annoyed me and how she was never there for me. I don't remember that. I remember having typical teenage angst but I can recall no horrible times with my mother. I wrote this horrible poem about how she never cared about me and was a terrible person. I ripped it up. I wanted to never have found it. There were also poems I'd written about how I felt alone and that no one cared for me. I suffered in silence. I was a horrible teenager. I mean really pitiful. There's a song on country radio it goes something like this: "And I'll hang around as long as you will let me. And I never minded standing in the rain. But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'. You never even called me by my name." That's my life. No one ever remembered my name. They probably still don't. Oh, well. Who am I living my life for? At least I remember my name. lol Also in the crap was a list of life goals. I have completed zero. Absolutely none can be even halfway checked off. I also thought it'd be important to write pages about where I wanted to be buried when I died and who would get what. I'm shaking my head now. I always feel like I'm going to be dead soon. I'm not scared of death like I should be. I'm a little too morbid for most people so I just hide it like everything else I think people won't like. I should get over that.