Bad luck, so good luck will reinforce it.

I finally realized the meaning of bad luck. I was cursed all my life with the sovereinty of being a bad girl who may only flirt with the guys, but never takes them home. It's kind of sad. My life is a train wreck, smashing into ever person that's willing to get a ticket and travel nowhere.


And here I am, listening and watching as musicians make their life, and I sit here, still blind to the fact I need to choose myself what to do in four years. High school will turn out to be a drag. Just like middle school I'll be the butt of every joke and the talk on the lastest what not to wear.


But you know the formula, the formula to make me happy. You just never call when I need you. So why do you even bother. You only talk when you want something, and the rest of the time it's an endless rush to get rid of me.


So why does it matter. The fact I am writing a fourteenth to get away from the thirteen I could delete. Things I did in the past were simple. You don't really know the meaning of love until you've been through hell and back. I can account for knowing love about fifty times now, and that's only counting last year. Who knows how many lives we will screw up in the next decade, atleast we had a good message. Not.


So when I decide I'm not Okay, go ahead, call, I might pick up.


"I can't sleep, in the wake of Saturday."