Impulse

So, I bleached my hair. I feel like getting a tattoo, I made connections in detention, so I could get one for twenty bucks if I really wanted to. I don't want tb, so I'll wait on that one. I want to dye my hair pink. I want to get multiple peircings. I want to start smoking, start cutting (again), start sleeping around, and riding a motorcycle. I want to get a job and drop out of school. I want to have babies, ride with the hells angels, get addicted to heroin, and fuck up my life in general. I want to shoot a man for the sake of killing. I want to blow out my brains on the lockerroom walls. I want to fuck with the system. I want to get fucked by the system even worse than now. I want to get high.
And why? Because that's the antithesis of everything Esteban, my dear ex-boyflake, liked and knew about me. I want to show him something, teach him something, or just make him notice me again. I don't want to give a fuck about anyone or anything---especially me! I just want to fall like an angel, and fly like the damned. I can't decide I want and can't fucking decide who I am.