We cry because there's nothing left to do.

I went out with mum and Justine last night, and got into the Capital with Naomie's ID. The night started out pretty crappy, and ended even worse. I drank too much too fast, got mouthraped on the dancefloor, managed to get a few bumps and bruises, called a bunch of people, and stumbled home at around 4am only to throw up violently and have my mother say "I told you so".

I was sick this morning, and left work an hour early because I could barely stand, only to come home and bawl my eyes out for ages. I still feel sick, and I don't seem to be getting any better at all. I turn eighteen in two days, and I never fucking want to drink again. I'm seriously considering cancelling my birthday thing on Friday. I'm still trying not to burst into tears again, especially when I think about how much he doesn't want me, and I have no trouble remembering WHY I wanted to write myself off last night. Mum and Justine made it worse.

I was dancing with a boy.

Mum: Michelle, you have a boyfriend!

Me: No, I don't.

Justine: What happened to the boy you're always with?

I turned away to start dancing again, trying not to cry.

Justine and Mum: Michelle!

Me: He doesn't fucking want me okay? They never do.

I danced, and tried even harder not to cry.