saturday

following a good week is always a bad day. always. i will never deny the inevitability that seven days after a really good moment a tragic one will follow. no matter how many awesome people we think we meet every day, we meet an equivalent amount of assholes. assholes who come across nice or cool, who will fuck you over in a heartbeat. and i don't exaggerate. a heartbeat can mean the second it takes him to walk out the door and leave you hanging, or him turning around the ignore you in front of his friends. i'm probably being dramatic, but i don't think it's fair that moments like these have to happen to me more than 4 times in my little lifetime. i've only been alive for 18 years and 11 months, yet i still think i deserve a little more. does a really loving relationship have to stem from a series of awful, scarring ones? do mean guys even count as relationships?

i am so miserable here.