Dear God, the Universe, Whoever's Out There That Decides These Things,

I get it, okay? I get it. I. Get. It. I get that I can't just say things like that. I understand that I can't just bait you and walk away unscathed. I get that I have to work hard for the things I want. I get that I have to work harder when I don't do it right the first time. I get that I'm not officially getting sleep tonight. I get that I'm not getting sleep tonight. I get that I'm going to fail my Bio test and flunk my HAPUSH essay. I get that I'm sixteen and it is presumptuous of me to think that I have anything even a little figured out. And I get that I can't take the easy way out. I get it, I get it, I get it.

I get that I can't think that I'm better than anyone else. I get that I shouldn't be so sure of what I think I know. I know that I don't know anything. I realize now that I'm in no place to judge people who have no fucking idea what they're doing. Because I have no fucking idea of what I'm doing. No. Fucking. Clue.

I get that I shouldn't swear.

I get that I shouldn't take mental health days.

I will NEVER get the importance of sleep. Eveni if I get that I should, dammit!

And I get that things can't always work out for me when I fuck up.

I guess I didn't get that I couldn't learn. Because I thought I did. I honestly thought I did. So I guess I'm most frustrated that I haven't learned and it feels like I never will. And that sucks.

And I guess I hold myself to such a high standard that I won't settle for imperfection and I just end up with nothing. Or with something so last minute because I realized that even if it's not perfect I have to have something. Anything.

But this hurts. Because I'm anticipating failure. I'm anticipating being tired all day. And I just can't deal with that right now. I need a break.

God, Universe, Whoever Is Listening, am I allowed to run away? I think I run away a lot, but do I? If I don't, does that mean I can do so now? If I do run away a lot, will that one more time matter much?

God, Universe, Whoever Can Hear Me, will I never know who I am? More importantly, will I ever not need to know? Will I ever be okay with not knowing? Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid I will never have a purpose. I'm afraid if I lose the one thing I can surely associate myself with, then I will fade away. I'm not afraid of not being in history books, but I am afraid that the ones I love will forget me. I'm afraid that the ones I love will judge me.

God, Universe, Whoever On This Planet, why can't I just face things? I know I'm supposed to, but why are my words so different from my actions? Why I am so Goddamn idealistic if I can only ever be disappointed?

When did I become such a hypocrite?

God, Universe, Whoever Up There Who Should Be Watching Over Us, why can't I blame you for my problems? Why can't I blame you and not have to carry around this burden all the time? Why can't I write this well, be this articulate, when I actually need to be?

Why can't I decide when it is actually important?

God, Universe, Whoever. Why does it feel like I've given up? Why did I give up? When did I say to myself "You're going to fail anyway"? Why? When? How?

God, I love you, but you aren't mine. I don't know what to believe.

Universe, I don't know you. You are so big and I am so small and I mean literally nothing to you other than I follow your laws.

Whoever. Whoever you are, I just wish you could hear my questions.

And I get that all of these questions have no answers. And I get that I will be okay with that tomorrow. I want so badly to be okay with it all the time.

I just… I just want to cry and actually feel relieved again.

I just want to sleep for the rest of eternity.

I don't want to grow up.

I don't want to become a senior or go to college or become an adult or become a parent. To sum it up, I don't want to be responsible.

Right now, I, so badly, want nothing more than to say "Fuck Responsibility." But I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't. I don't even know why I can't. It might be because my parents raised me that way, or because it makes me think I'd be disappointing them. Maybe its because if I do, I'll worry it will stick. Maybe I'm just that kind of person.

But I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't know fucking anything. Forget everything I said I "get." I don't "get" anything. Life is one big fucking mess and I will just have to fucking accept it. Fuck.

Fuck you (if I can for once get away with saying it),

Allison