There are ants crawling in a discarded cup I had Sprite in last night. I like ants. They're cute little critters. But I never Bug-Bomb them. I think they're too cute. Sometimes I burn incense, though. They don't seem to like Gonesh Jasmine's smell.

Also, the next person to tell me that "You'll grow to like it" or "You'll get over it" is getting smacked in the face with dually-wielded pillows. I'm sick of being told that. Maybe I will grow to like it or get over it, but I'D LIKE TO MAKE MY OWN DECISION ABOUT THAT, thank you! I'd like to be in charge of my own life for awhile, thank you very much!

After the Week of Blood and Wangst is over with (should be around Tuesday or Wednesday), I'm fuckin' outta here. I'm 18; there's nothing legally stopping me. I'll tell Dad and Karen one more time that I don't want to live their lives. And then, if they don't freakin' listen to me, I'm going anyway. A short-hop trip to Myrtle Beach, perhaps. Just to see if I really enjoy the nomadic lifestyle (then, if I don't, I can settle down somewhere I love to be).

If I really enjoy the nomadic lifestyle, then I might go to Oregon. Or California. Maybe even Canada. Or maybe I'll hop a ride on a boat to England; I've always wanted to go, but I've got an airplane phobia.

Forgive me, folks; I'm usually not this angsty and whiny. I'm usually a lot cheerier and pleasant to be around.