deux.
To be completely fucking honest, the real reason I despise you miserable twats is because you've somehow gotten the idea that we all care about your minor miseries, and the fact that, against all reason, other people actually do. I want people to care about my fucking problems, not your stubbed toes and broken nails.

And while I'm at it? This isn't a fucking kumbaya. Just stop with the heart-to-hearts, I'm-so-lonelys, and I-love-you-alls. It's making me want to simultaneously vomit and hex half the school out of existence.

I can't fucking believe myself some days. 'I know'? What the hell sort of answer is that? I want to just tell her I fancy her but -- I don't even know if that's what she meant. Or what if it's some kind of spell? Those have been going around. Then I'd be fucking humiliated and

Oh, Merlin, I've just written that I fancy her. This honesty thing is worse than I thought.