Dear Diary,

Dear Diary, help me

Dear Diary, 

Help. Please. God, if only you were somewhat useful. My parents are yelling about me. They're blaming eachother for why I am the way I am. 

She's dead.

He's gone.

What the hell do they expect me to be like.

I think I'm crying. 

I'm too numb to tell right now.

The guy I've been seeing, Landon, that's his name. He's been avoiding me because I actually care. He says I'm "too clingy" maybe I am or maybe he's not used to someone loving him. Maybe it's both.

I think I'm going to go talk to my parents. I'll tell them to stop blaming eachother and blame themselves as a whole. Blame her. Blame him. Blame Landon. 

I'll text Landon later.

He's more addicting than coffee, that says something.

Yeah, I'm crying, Hard.

I'll go tell them they're both to blame and they need more help than I do.

Yeah, I'll tell them.

Yeah.