thirteen august
twelve : forty-seven a.m.

"i can't wait to get out of here like you are," he said.

"you'll say that until its two days before you have to leave, and then you'll realise that you're really attached to some people and some things and that those people and those things won't be there anymore. as much as you say you hate it here, there are things you're going to miss."

there are things you (and i) won't miss, as well.

i can't ask questions anymore. everyone will just jump down my throat. i finally decide to start living, to start feeling, and they just shove me back down because they misunderstand me.

"don't use that tone of voice." "don't question."

but i want to know. i just want to learn.

i just read this, and it makes perfect sense. i understand every word of it.