goddamnit, my fucking legs hurt. Fucking hurt. hurt hurt hurt. Damnit. The fucking poison oak and the fucking low counts and the fucking biopsy. Goddamnit, I am just pissed. Seriously. I don't know if I can survive through being out of remission. Seriously. I promised myself and everything, but I honest to god don't know if I can go through with it. I mean, I would have to move back to cb, live with my parents, and then I'm as good as dead anyway, right? If I have to go through chemo in coos bay?
Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.
And I hate html and I'm raging about that because I created an RPG, but fuck fuck fuck I fucked up the links. damnit.
Ruth and I hung out tonight. It was awesome. I had uber amounts of fun being a big nerd. We both made shirts that say "republicans for Voldemort", and then she made a nifty Ravenclaw patch for a messenger bag, and I made a tee shirt with a simple slytherin flag, and then my baby: a white zip up hoodie with my last name in green on the back, and the slytherin crest on the L breastacle. It is really cute and adorable and I would be so much happier if my fucking leg wasn't oozing blood and poison-oak ness! Mother of god.
*fucking storms off ranting*
*comes back to remind people*: just started amagicalworld Join. Or don't. It's up to you.
*goes back to storming away*