I look like hell. I've been living in this hoodie. Bless my brother for giving it to me.

Thanksgiving dinner was tonight. I ate grapes, and drank half a wine glass of Mountain Dew. I disgust myself. The year before this, I had nachos. I don't like turkey.

I have a stupid Hillary Duff song stuck in my head. I hate her. I must add her to my site's list of celebrities that suck.

My site needs a new layout, speaking of which. Something black. And blood-coloured, perhaps. ...

I don't want to fall backward off my teeny baby step, but I know it's what'll happen. If I try to help, he'll hate me. It's not my place. It's how I get into trouble - trying too hard to fix things, I end up turning them to shit. I'm in a checkmate; I've got to move, but where? Every path ends in the brick wall of his icy, hating stare. How can I choose, between their happiness, and mine? I'm selfish, but more of me wants him to be happy than me. I've not had his hard life - I don't deserve the bliss nearly as much as he. I couldn't live with my suspicions that I'd ruined it. I broke away, didn't want him to be hated afterward for this mistake, despite wanting what had been happening to happen forever and ever. Do I have the power to make or break their smiles? Do I keep clinging to these hopes, or do I have the strength to let him go? Time will tell, I suppose. I know the right thing to do, and so, what I must say. It'll be the hardest thing I ever have to do.