the miserable life of a miserable teenager -
tw pity party
Next year, I just won’t have a party.
Try to blow out my trick candles.
Open my pie-to-the-face presents.
Then cry till I run out of tissues.
Why’d I even invite people?
I knew they wouldn’t come.
My dress is wrinkled
and my hair’s frizzy.
The ice cream cake melted
and my heart broke.
Who cares?
I don’t even need a pity party.
What’s the point in celebrating another year on this disgusting planet anyway?
Let’s celebrate my fucking death tonight instead.
There’s a reason to party.
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