Ben plays his music so that my walls vibrate. I go downstairs and say, "Hey Ben, could you turn down your music", he's lying on his bed playin with his cell phone and he answers me in his pissed off tone he reserves for our mother, "It's not even loud." I wanted to hit him. Hard. I asked nicely and he was a bitch. I'm never nice to him and the one time I try, sleepily and sad, he is a fuck wit. I walked away gritting my teeth thinking of horrible insults and come-backs that would piss him off, make him chase me up stairs into my room and try to beat the shit out of me, but, instead I turned on my parents computer and checked out AIM followed by a visit to Zach Braff's blog.
I'm going to try and sleep again. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm always plagued by it unless I'm reading or have company. It's your fault you know. Just make it stop.
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