school's out. finally. I still have so much crud on the needles - those socks for mom, that scarf for Rao, the orange hat for me when it snows - i'm never gonna get it done.
I don't see why i bother anymore. no one reads this. my friends and family don't. I just wrote this huge letter-thing to my hero, Stephanie Pearl-McFee, but I know she probably will never read it. I feel despair.
I felt like I wanted to die last night.
I hate admitting this, buti need to get it out somehow. I hope no one will ever read this. They might tell my mom, who'll send me to the psych ward like in It's Kind of a funny Story.
I'm leaving to go knit on my sock, and be happy in my misery (The Offspring reference. Look for Cool to Hate) tah tah for now.
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