It's spelled H-O-P-E-L-E-S-S C-A-S-E

I should throw myself out of a window, hope I survive the fall so I can drown myself in the park's pond.  That's how sick of myself I am.  I've spent 20 years living with me and so far, minus the occasional feud, I had no problems with the-girl-named-me, but lately, she's been very difficult to live with.  And I don't know how friends like P or M, for instance, can still bare to talk to me, to listen to me and I really don't get how they can say things like "no no, I'm still listening, you're not bothering me." in a very sincere and heartfelt way.  They're better people than I could ever hope to be, for sure.  So ok, maybe God made me an effing mess of a girl, but at least, he gave me some effing amazing friends.  

So to those friends, I'm sorry I'm such a mess but at least I'm entertaining. No need for tv, I'm a tv-show all by myself.  And maybe one day I'll grow a backbone and be able to reveal this BIG DARK DEEP secret of mine and my friends won't have to hear my "why can't I just say it", and my "Why am I such a coward" and my "Arghh I'm hungry, let's go eat something.".  

On a brighter side, I almost got killed by a ring today.  And by ring, yes, I mean the small, tiny and delicate thing you put on a finger.  I also caused a major electrical breakdown.  Sometimes I wonder how these things happen to me.  And I'm thinking 'surely there must be a limit to the number of stupid things I can do' and so far, I haven't reached it. So I'm pretty sure that limit is non existent.  I should start investing in a good life insurance policy.  Anyone knows one?