No I still want her to teach me. I like being with her. We haven’t had that time a lot. I mean… I don’t want art school. Which is weird because it’s my dream to go to art school. I want to but I don’t want to and that’s confusing and I don’t know.
I don’t have time. I can’t think. When I think I get weird and when I get weird I go to my mom but she doesn’t understand she never does. No one else will listen to me. So I try to fill my time with… things. Empty things that mean nothing. Playing with random objects, biting my lips, watching something, drinking coffee. I can’t think because thinking has only brought me bad things. What if I think then one day because I thought I don’t know what’s happening anymore. Because my thoughts got confusing. Then I would go to my mom. But she still wouldn’t understand. School is thinking. About things that don’t matter. And I hate school which is ironic considering I use things that don’t matter as an escape. I’m not sure what I’m escaping. I’ve been rambling and this sounds liek a therapy session but I don’t have a therapist anymore because my last therapist was mean and she didn’t understand me either.