believe;

you think i only rant about him in this blog ?;
nope. i rant about my parents too;

bloody hell.
ever since i moved here.
i've been bickering with my mother;
and it ficking hurts me to do so;
Each time the conversation ends with me running up my room in tears;
what the ficking point of this?;

i hate the fact that my father is the trigger of the bicker the fuss;

whatever. i'm changing topics;

i look out the window.
i see a tall boy with a brown polo shirt and white cargo pants
and with a little puppy on his hands;
who say my only weakness was a guy in tux and red tie?
i like boys with polo shirts and bermudas / cargos too;
mind you;
he's my neighbor.
all i can see buffet'