I'm so sick of being alone. And the worst part about it is, the closest thing I have to a person to confide in is this stupid little journal. Why is it, that every time I like someone, it never works out? EVER! And every time I think about it, it's like I'm an immature child, whining because she doesn't get what she wants. . . . . .

What. Ever.

I'm sick. Just, so, sick . . . .