Yay. I just got back from a craft festival with my mom and her boyfriend. You know... seeing all of these happy couples is like a knife in my heart. I'm walking along, fighting a migraine, smelling cow shit, seeing happy kissy couples, and I can actually feel the blood draining from my heart, I can feel how cold my insides are getting, and yet I'm supposed to dance around merrily and buy apples and little wooden things to put outside the apartment, which would be stolen twenty minutes after we closed the door. It's really hard to get friendly with the man who said that I "act like a fuckin two year old" when I was hysterical and having a panic attack, trying not to kill myself. It's really, really, really hard for me to not smack everyone in the face right now. Hard. With brass knuckles. No, steel ones. With spikes.