So last night I slept with the shirt next to me. Like, I haven't even washed it, and it still smells of him, and I slept with the damn shirt, okay?
I don't think I want to wash it. It smells of Genie. He smells good. Whenever I smell the shirt, it reminds me of him. So I smell the shirt a lot.
It's really painful, how sick I'm becoming, but it's okay as I don't really care.
I had tuition in my room. It was very cramped. I managed not to think about Gen and focused on radioactivity, which is stupid and complicated, but I've a test on it next Wednesday so what can I do?
I have pictures of Iker Casillas and Ilhan Mansiz on my wall. When my dad saw it, he called me crazy.
Thinking about my dad reminds me of the lies I'm feeding the folks.
I'd rather not think about that.