Uuuuuuugh, I did it. I've sent my parents thé email in which I complain about everything that's going on in my mind. Kom maar met dat gepreek. I'm not ready, as I'll never will be. But I want it to be over with. Just let me sleep, please. Or give me food. Or let me die. Either one of them.
• It is often the biggest smile, that is hiding the saddest heart. •