“What's wrong?” He said.

Well for starters it confuses me why my pen runs out of ink in the middle of the sentence as if I had never been writing at all as if my pen was trying to tell me to shut up
I don't understand why my mom doesn't
listen to a single word at mass
all she does is lick her fingers and flip through the book of hymns
like she's some kind of important thing that already knows what God wants us to think every single week
and the sink in your downstairs bathroom drains really slowly sometimes I stand there and stare
I pretend I'm watching my life circle around the drain slowly until it gets sucked away
for the rest of forever and you know
sometimes it bothers me that I'll never see any of the water droplets ever again
I think it's weird that my dad calls my mom's parent's mom and dad
he should just not call them anything
because they aren't his parents he is just guilty by association
like that detention I got in eighth grade
I would like very much if my best friend didn't want to kill herself because I think it would
make my shoulders feel less like they are caving into my shoulder blades
I am horrifically annoyed that no
one and no-
thing is in love with me because my walls
are painted red and it makes me feel like I should feel passionate about something
or someone or anything just anything at all but in all honesty
I am really tired
I hate that I can't stop thinking about you because I read an article that said
you could make yourself believe anything you want so I told myself 537 times
I counted
that I didn't care a bit about you, no offense
and I think my
ankle is
sprained.